A Time of Healing: The Circles of the Worlds
by Noldesse
Summary: Sequel to "Ancient Wounds"; must read it to understand the events of this second installment. Thranduil has returned to the throne following Vanimë's ultimate sacrifice. Will he be able to accept that Vanimë has been lost from him forever, or will he fall into despair? Will he finally see the error of his ways? Rated M for a few chapters, which will be noted.
1. Secrets Untold

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: Nothing belongs to me except the unrecognizable. _Council of Elrond_ website referenced.

**Secrets Untold**

Nolwi threw the book to the floor with a cry. She had felt the lifelessness of her daughter's body through Thranduil. Her stomach hardened into a knot, pulse racing uncontrollably. That was how her oldest had ended; she had sacrificed herself for an unworthy King, steeped in the hatred and pride of old. His inability, or unwillingness, to see past the strife brought her daughter's fate to the tragic end that it had come to. Yet, the words of Vanimë rang in her mind as clear as bells:

_This memory from my younger years came back to me as I lay on the leaf-strewn ground of Mirkwood's forest. Of all the memories, this one was buried the deepest, for it held so many feelings for me. Anger, of course, but not at my father; rather it was directed towards my mother. There was no legitimate reason for her to have abandoned my sister and me; she had no excuse. Over the course of the eons I lost my softer side as Amorith became my new life. I had no choice; I had to look after Vanië and she needed someone strong. I lost the things that were the most beautiful about me, that I cherished the most about myself: my love of dance and song, my arbitrary nature, my desire to travel. I know mother left because she could not handle the way my father changed, but what of her daughters? Did she not have an obligation towards us? We were not children, yet we were still young and easily malleable. We could have succumbed to the malice of the Oath just as easily as my sire and his father did. Nothing was certain then._

_It is often looked back upon in the lore of the ancient Eldar that the most evil deed done was the taking of the Oath by the House of Fëanor_._I have always regarded another deed, much lesser known and very private, as being of equal rank. My mother's repudiation of my sister and me is also an evil deed. From that we learned how even the supposedly strong ties of blood and kinship, something the Elves have ever prided themselves upon, can be severed. We learned to mistrust those we came into contact with. Love was something we did not firmly believe in, and even after Thranduil had professed himself to me in Doriath I was quite skeptical. It took me many years to believe him. So when he cast me out of his realm, the pain was unbearable. I was already wounded leaving Valinor, and my time in Middle-earth only increased my suffering._

"I killed her," she whispered to Arqueno.

The Teleri lifted his head slowly upon hearing her voice. Silver tears tracked down his face, betraying the emotions he was attempting to hide. Not out of embarrassment; Nolwi had seen him weep before, rather it was out of shame at his own self. He had recounted Vanimë as a daughter of evil, tainted by her blood relation to Fëanor. Arqueno challenged and denied the very struggles she lived through, and died by, because of his incapacity to understand her situation.

"That was why Vanië bore her book with her…" he said aloud.

Nolwi looked curiously at him, her own tears soaking her cheeks.

"Vanimë knew no one would believe her story; how could anyone? She went through those circumstances alone, no one else did. Not even Vanië. She was so alone…"

Nolwi smiled now, taking her husband's hands in hers, kissing them gently. "You do not hate her anymore, then?" she asked. "You finally know her pain?"

Arqueno shook his head.

"Nay, my love, I do not hate her. Rather, I hate the arrogance her family forced upon her, all of the hardships she had to endure. How must it have felt, to be a pillar of solitude amidst the ensuing chaos? What forces of willpower did she have to summon to forsake her soul, to leave behind all tokens of self: name, family, heritage, language even! Everything from that moment was a lie; how alike to her sires she must have felt, yet how very different. Verily they are the Cursed and Dispossessed, yet they remained steadfast in their beliefs. Never has any of the Edain or Eldar been this unwavering; it is not for naught that the Noldo have been heralded as the most noble. Their actions have been both unspeakable and great. I cannot, though, know her pain personally; I can only try my utmost to comprehend her situations and understand her reactions."

"How will Vanië go on without her?"

Arqueno's eyes glinted suddenly.

"If she has died, then she should be here in Mandos."

Nolwi was quiet.

"Perhaps she does not wish to see me; I have erred in her favor."

Her husband wrapped his arms around her waist, drawing her into him, placing his head on her shoulder. She sobbed quietly into her hands, ruing the day she had cursed her family. She had been warned of the consequences of her prayer and that it would not be reversed. Now she had the opportunity to reunite with her oldest daughter after countless ages, but would be refused. How could Nolwi explain to Vanimë the true reason she had deserted her and her sister on the docks of Alqualondë? Vanimë had been young then, innocent, yet possessed with strength of mind and heart. It was in this that Nolwi had put her faith in, which was not a legitimate reason she now knew. How could she have guaranteed herself then that these elements would remain in her older daughter, that they would not dissipate later? All that Nolwi had were hopes and fears; even now these two elements were her only companions. She felt the darkness of old returning.

"Would you like to journey, my lady?" Arqueno asked her quietly.

She turned her eyes, still wet with tears, upon his fair face. Her breath stopped in her throat.

"Where to?" she said in barely a whisper, trying not to believe what she truly desired him to say.

"To Mandos' Halls."

He had uttered what she both hoped and feared. The Halls were a source of fright for her. For many a century after the separation between her and Caranthir, she sent many heralds seeking news of her husband, at first fearfully, then as time went by, only as a matter of caution. That habit stopped soon after she wed Arqueno, even when the guilt crept back to her during the deeps of the nights. Never had she searched for word of her daughters there, having assumed that they would always come to her. Now, however, Nolwi knew that was false hope and arrogance on her part. She did not deserve their return to her household. The cruel words that Vanië overheard stung Nolwi's heart and soul. She was no mother; she was a partaker of evil. Arqueno felt her body trembling, and could only guess at the source of her anxiety. Although he knew a few reasons, he refused to delve any deeper. It was wise not to probe too deeply into the mysteries of the heart and mind; severe mental unrest, permanent at times, could happen. So he remained quiet, enveloping her in his strong arms, communicating his love and support to her wordlessly. They remained this way for some time, until at last Nolwi dared to speak her thoughts aloud.

"I am frightened of journeying there." she said. "I am wary of what truths shall be uncovered."

"You will not journey there alone; I will accompany you."

"'Tis not the journey that I fear, but rather the end of it, Arqueno. I have not been that faithful to you, for I have kept secrets from you. I am not so very unlike Caranthir, am I?"

Her husband embraced her tightly, responding, "We all have our secrets, do we not? Come, my dear, let us prepare ourselves for the journey. I pray we may both find some solace."

Nolwi stared at her husband for a moment, wondering what he meant. Yet he did not pay her any attention, instead gathering up the book she had thrown to the floor. He placed it inside a velvet coverlet before handing it to her, saying, "I shall go to the stable and ready the horses."

Arqueno was quiet on his solitary trip to the stable. He could as easily have ordered a servant to prepare the horses, but he needed the time alone. He was as apprehensive of meeting Vanimë as was his wife. His hatred had not all subsided, but he was starting to control it. As he had told Nolwi, he was trying to understand situations and reactions rather than succumb to mere blind and arrogant hate. Although much time had passed since the first stirring of darkness regarding the Silmarilli, in some ways time did not seem to have passed at all. Any mention of Curufinwë would rouse many grumblings and curses from the Eldar of the Blessed Realm, specifically the Teleri, his and Nolwi's people. They did not seem to possess the ability to live with their pain; it only increased tenfold with the passing of the long eons. Indeed, when the first of the returning Exiles arrived after the lift of their Ban, the wary inhabitants of Alqualondë welcomed them very coldly. Arqueno himself recalled standing on the docks, staring critically at the anxious Noldor as they disembarked from their ships. He could not fathom the notion of trying to understand their plight then, yet here he was now, beginning to sympathize with the granddaughter of the accursed Curufinwë himself! How he wished to take up his sword and avenge his lost people. Yet his kin, King Ingwë, bade him to steady his hand and soul, even though his blood boiled.

Arqueno was inside the stable now, breathing in the mixed scent of hay and dust. He nodded at the servant who cleaned the stalls, shoveling the old muck out and replacing it with fresh hay. The Teleri stifled a slight sigh, his thoughts now on the heavier matter. His brief encounter with Vanië brought back the devastating reality of marital affairs. It was not customary—no, rather—_never_ was it that a true lady of the Eldar remarried after the loss of her husband, being that the lost spirits returned newly embodied after some time. Such were the laws, and never were they contested, for there was no need. Yet Arqueno had always loved Nolwi, and great was his grief at her marriage to Caranthir. Patiently, though with a grieving heart, did he bear onward through the years until the malice of Curufinwë and his sons emerged. He could not quell the joy in his heart upon learning of Nolwi's separation from her husband. Yet the matter of the law remained.

He recalled pleading desperately with his King and kinsman, Ingwë, beseeching him to implore the Vala Manwë with whom he dwelt in Ilmarin for leniency. The matter remained unspoken of, until one evening such as this, Arqueno found himself on the marble floor of Manwë's great halls, groveling at the feet of his King, begging him to intercede on his behalf.

"I feel as if I might fade, I who have never trodden upon anything save this soil of the Blessed Realm. Surely what sin have I committed; what sin has she done? Finwë himself wed another, but I have wed none. This evil of Curufinwë was not ever perceived, shall she not be set free? Can she not have my pure love and tenderness? Or must she dwell forever bound to one who cast her aside, a Kin-slayer? Perhaps peace and understanding can come of this." he wept.

Ingwë looked with pity at Arqueno from his throne.

"Let me confer and see what I can do. Please stay as my guest."

"I cannot contain myself here for fear of the response and my reaction. I shall return home and await the answer. I accept whatever verdict will be agreed upon."

So Arqueno had spent the fortnight journeying slowly back to his home. Worry creased his brow with each step he took closer to his abode and farther away from Taniquetil. As the mountaintop receded further and further into the distance, his anxiety and fear increased. What would he do if the high Vala conferred with his equals and they decided to rain their wrath upon him for daring to defy laws? What if he were cast out of Valinor like the Noldor he despised? What arrogance made him believe he was on the same status as Finwë to be another exception to the customary law? What had overcome him to even make such a bold move? It was not evil, no, but the Kin-slaying began innocently enough with the possession of the Trees' Lights in the Simarilli. As the famed Teleri saying went: "Even Fëanor was born pure and innocent". It was a line familiar to all the children of the Teleri, who usually responded with a roll of their eyes. All Arqueno could do was pray fervently, yet not allow his hopes to soar too high.

The response came two months after his arrival. He was at the lake behind his house, feeding his beloved swans just as Vanië had done of late. He heard the softest crunch of grass beneath the herald's boots advancing swiftly towards him. Arqueno tried to hide his emotions. The slightest shake of his hands as he fed the alabaster swans betrayed him. The herald stopped shortly before him, bowing fluidly. His demeanor was grim; only the silver gleam of his eyes beneath his helm, shaped like that of the great Eagles of his Lord Manwë, gave away anything. Arqueno bowed in return, for he did not know whether the herald was of Elven kind or Maia, and what did it truly matter anyway? The message would be delivered either way. He indicated several chaises nearby for the two of them to sit on, and called for the servants to bring some food and drink. But the herald spoke then, after a lengthy period of silence, refusing to allow himself to rest:

"I have not come to partake of your hospitality, as honorable and appreciated as it is."

Arqueno's heart skipped a few beats. He was thankful for the servants who appeared then, and partook himself of the wine they offered. The herald waited for him to take a few sips before speaking again, standing directly in front of him in a formidable stance. Arqueno was reminded of the Eagles on the hunt; did they have this pose before capturing their prey? Was he now the Lord of the Wind's prey? The symbolism was too much for his nerves to handle at that moment.

"Long has your case been thought over by His Majesty, Manwë. His decision was made only after careful deliberation with others of his equals and those lesser yet with sound judgment. Before I inform you of His decision, is there nothing you would do to gain what you desire? Apart from seeking the pity of your own King, and that of the Valar, is there anything? For there is naught that comes without a price; such is the way of the world, equilibrium maintained."

Arqueno did not reply immediately, allowing this information to sink into his mind carefully. From what he heard, he was able to glean rather important notes. Firstly, the length of time meant there was some conflict even amongst the Valar themselves regarding the marital law. His hope soared a little at this despite his better judgment. Secondly, and most importantly, he was being asked to contemplate a bargain. If the Vala he had beseeched so earnestly did not think his case worthy, a bargain would not have been mentioned. He had never thought of this possibility, yet looking back now with this information, he wondered how he had overlooked that option. The Noldor gave up returning to Valinor in their quest to return to Middle-earth. They believed in their Oath as dearly as he believed in Nolwi. Truly, love rendered its victims helpless, and Arqueno was desperate now. He thought wildly of what sacrifice he would endure. As the images of Finwë, Míriel Serindë, and Fëanor flashed through his mind, he said, "Children."

The herald was taken aback as he looked at him. Clearly he had not expected this, the same as Arqueno. The Teleri would not refute his word now. Whatever it would take for him to obtain Nolwi as his wife he was prepared to sacrifice. The herald's eyes glittered again as he cocked his head, and Arqueno again recalled dueling Eagles during a fight, sizing one another up.

"You would vanquish your blessing of children to have Nolwi?" the herald said softly.

Arqueno nodded, swallowing hard, yet holding firmly.

"Very well…"

It was in this manner that he had obtained his wife. He recalled the herald asking him something before leaving, which at the time he had considered insignificant:

"If you seek in some manner revenge, would you repent of your plea?"

Now Arqueno understood. There was nothing that was not some semblance of seeking revenge when it regarded the Fëanorians. The Teleri were not fully at ease with the Kin-slaying and its perpetrators, even after all these long Ages of the world. The serenity of Valinor seemed to only breed more contempt and ill will in the hearts of some of its inhabitants. That question came back to haunt Arqueno later, when after a time, he desired children with Nolwi, to show her what a true family of Valinor was like. He had grown wary of her tales of her daughters, convinced that they were as full of malice as their sire, and his own sire. Even though Nolwi was content with no children from her new husband, he was not. The realization of his bargain with the Valar, and the herald's statement, silenced him. He had never told Nolwi for fear of his own reactions, not hers. He had said himself he only desired her, and no one else. Yet when Vanië had appeared, and he beheld Nolwi's satisfaction, he felt his heart go out to this daughter of his wife even as his soul grew cold in remembrance of his solemn promise.

His tears fell anew as he planted a kiss atop his stead's muzzle, saying, "I have not been faithful to you either Nolwi, _meldanya_ (my dear). I am alike to Caranthir as well, keeping secrets."


	2. Pain and Guilt

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien; the rest is my own. Story rating changed to M for heterosexual relations between a married couple. Name changed-Arquen to Arqueno, Olwen to Nolwi. Please read and review; I only improve through your critiques.

**Pain and Guilt**

Arqueno returned an hour later to his home, having chosen the horses for the long journey to Mandos' Halls the following day. He would be travelling with his wife and no one else this time because of the sensitive nature of the ordeal. He knew he would not abide having a stranger travelling with them, and Nolwi most definitely would not consent. So with this in mind he chose two of his most steadfast steeds, giving clear instructions to the stable boys to have them readied by the time he and his wife finished breakfast the following morning. They nodded silently.

"The horses are to be ready in the morrow, my lady." he said when he entered the dining hall.

The evening meal was set on the table, a dinner consisting of five courses, starting with a light salad and ending with a heavy treacle sponge pudding. Of course there was tea, and tonight it was Nolwi's favorite, a black tea infused with orange, lemon, bergamot and cornflower. The flavor was sometimes a bit too much for Arqueno's liking depending on the steeping time, but tonight it was perfect, a great complement to the wonderful meal and dessert they just consumed. Arqueno ate heartily, but Nolwi only picked at her plate. Her husband had to coax her to eat, gently reminding her of the long journey ahead of them. Reluctantly she consented, but only finished one quarter of a plate. She did help herself to tea and dessert readily, though. It was nerves, Arqueno knew; she was very anxious about what she would learn. He was restless, too.

After dinner they sat quietly in the drawing room, he reading from a book, and she playing the harp softly. Though her fingers plucked and her voice sang, her heart was not in her music. After a few moments she burst into tears and could not be comforted, so Arqueno resorted to carrying her up the winding staircase and into their bedchamber. He laid her gently on the bed before lying next to her. Her weeping had subsided, but the tears still ran freely down her face. He reached out a hand hesitantly to wipe them, unsure if his caresses would be welcomed. She allowed him to wipe her tears before pressing herself against him, sealing her lips around his. He was surprised at first; she had thrown herself at him savagely. Her nature was to be coy about her desires, yet she did not find her advances to be unwelcome. He responded in kind, kissing her back with such fierceness she did not know him to possess. He hurt as well from his own secrets.

Deeper this kiss became until they were both consumed by it, and when Nolwi felt she would burst, he broke their union. Placing one hand firmly on her nape, and the other on her rump, he tilted her head sideways and nipped her until she cried out in pain. When he paused to look at her, his eyes were dark with passion and glittering with unshed tears.

"Take me…I need you tonight. Take me, Arqueno." she whispered. "I surrender wholly to you."

Her tone was submissive, and it excited something in him he did not know existed. She was weak tonight, baring her entire soul to him for the first time in their marriage. She had always reserved a part of herself when they were intimate, but tonight she did not. There was something broken about her spirit, and it distressed him. She needed him to douse her heart with a different flame, one that he was more than willing to give. Would she handle him in the heat of passion?

He lifted himself from the bed, leaning on one arm to examine her. She was beautiful in every way to him, from her golden hair to her delicate little toes. He watched the rise and fall of her chest, allowing himself to be hypnotized by the rhythm. Would he tell her of his sacrifice? What would she think of him? If she desired children from him there would be no such future. Was it

so very selfish of him to not have told her earlier of his pact? At least he knew partially of her distresses before they wedded; what had held him back, fear of himself, or her? Was it so very wrong of him now to take advantage of her, when her guard was let down? Yet she had given him her full permission, promising him total submission. Was that not a right of his as husband?

"Will you have me or not? For by the Valar—"

Her sentence was cut midway by Arqueno assaulting her mouth again, and with his hands he was trying to remove her dress. Frustrated by his inability to unclasp the buttons, he tore at the fabric until it ripped down the middle, exposing her breasts. Her nipples were erect already, and they rubbed against his shirt, causing her to moan slightly. He released her mouth, trailing hot kisses and nips down from her jaw line and onto her right breast. Greedily he ran his tongue cruelly in circles, from her pink areola to the edge of her shoulder. Sometimes his tongue ran lightly, other times he pressed harder. She was responding in earnest now, writhing beneath him, and he could both smell and feel the wetness from between her legs. He repeated his torture on her left breast, and when he finished Nolwi was breathing rapidly. He looked with satisfaction at the marks on her neck. She was his, by the Valar she was, and he would not give her up for anything!

"I love you." he growled at her, biting her breasts without care.

She had her eyes closed, biting on her lower lip to keep from crying out. It was both pleasure and pain that she was feeling. She loved her husband more than anything, and would not give him up. With a pang she realized that for him she had traded her daughters. But was there anything at all without cost? Fëanor relinquished his people's dignity and honor, accepting the Valar's Curse for his pursuit of freedom in Middle-earth. What was worse than that? Who would welcome a cursed immortal lifetime, who would want to leave the Blessed Realm? But at this last reflection she checked herself, for at times she wished to see the lands to the east, across the Sea. Valinor's peace was a pretty charade; for not too far beneath the surface the pains of past days dwelled.

"I love you too." she gasped between ecstatic cries.

Arqueno raised himself from his wife's body, straddling her with his legs. He undid his tunic's buttons before pulling it off his body in one swift movement. Nolwi's eyes glowed in delight as she drank in her husband's form. He was not as muscular as Caranthir, but to her he was perfect. Whereas her first husband was rougher and very direct about what he wanted, Arqueno was most tender and kind when making love to her, letting her explore and develop her own habits. Except for tonight; he was a feral creature she did not know, but it made her desire him very unchastely. As he gazed down upon her, she batted her eyes coyly at him, running her foot up his leg. She needed this attention from him; she needed to be consumed and reborn.

He grabbed her wrist suddenly and yanked her upwards against him. Her torn dress bothered him, impeding his actions. As she lay with her full breasts pressed against his chest, her teeth biting into his neck, he undid the lace drawing her dress closed from behind. She lifted her hips slightly so he could pull it off her, and at last she was free of any raiment except her bodily one. She gave a startled gasp as he nipped the tips of her ears, trailing hot kisses down to her stomach. He then laid her back down onto their bed gently and attacked her vigorously. With one hand he caressed her cheek, and with the other he inserted his index finger into her sweet recess, the wetness allowing him easy access. She moaned beneath him as he explored her from inside, feeling his own desire between his legs swell. Looking into her eyes deeply, he readied himself for entry. He decided to take her unawares, roughly, and without preparation. It was always his wish to claim her thusly, and tonight she offered him this. So he continued to explore her from the inside, slowly lifting her into the correct position. Then, suddenly, he removed his finger and entered into her, making her cry out in surprise. But anticipating this, he covered her mouth with his own to stifle her voice as he eased himself in and out of her. She soon responded with her own rhythm, and for a few minutes they both moved in harmony until they could bear it no longer and rode out their own releases. Spent at last, Arqueno rolled over onto his belly next to his wife, whose hair lay splayed across the pillows and over her breasts.

For awhile they said nothing as they regained their breath, Nolwi's body still emanating that sacred heat from between her legs. Her husband lazily stroked her thigh, and she ran her fingers lightly across his face, tracing the outline of his jaw. He had surprised her with his last move, as well as frightening her somewhat. Without using any words he had conveyed to her his desire to dominate her wholly, and a small part of her resented that. She attributed it to her prior marriage to Caranthir and his utter need for control, something she promised herself never to experience again when she wedded Arqueno. Tears welled up in her eyes, and when she looked at Arqueno, there were tears in his eyes as well. She looked questioningly at him.

"I do not know what possessed me to do so…I know you asked me never to do that…"

Nolwi smiled softly at him, kissing him tenderly.

"Hush, my love…you had to do it, I felt your need to. And look at me, I am unscathed. You took me by surprise is all. There is no need to apologize; 'tis your right, my husband." she said.

He tried to respond, but she covered his mouth with her hand. They made love again, this time the sweet tender kind that Nolwi cherished. Arqueno remained silent for the remainder of the night, seeking solace in the arms of his dear wife. She sang to him softly as he slipped into uneasy reverie, plagued by dreams he could not fathom. Nolwi wondered about his brooding. She had noticed something in the way he looked into her eyes the second time they had finished coupling. There was guilt, but was it all due to his previous performance? She felt part of it was, but not the majority of it. There was something much deeper that troubled him. As much as she wanted to know, she would not press the matter. All in due time; patience would be her virtue.

When she awoke the next morning, it was late. There were rose petals scattered all over the bed and onto the floor, with a note in Arqueno's place that read, _You were such a sight of bliss, I had not the heart to waken you._ She smiled. Wrapping the sheet around her body, she went to the windows to open the curtains, reveling in the warming sun that lit up the room. After a few moments of lingering she bathed, then dressed for the day.

"Ah, daughter, you are up after all."

Nolwi ran to her father. She had seen him as she descended the staircase, and he had turned at

the sound of her footfalls. The ancient Elf kissed the top of his daughter's brow, receiving a tight embrace in turn. Arqueno inclined his head to her in greeting, taking her arm in his, and the trio made their way leisurely to the dining hall, where the breakfast was waiting. Arqueno moved, allowing his father-in-law his traditional seat, which the former took with thanks.

"So, Arqueno tells me you are going to Mandos."

Nolwi glanced at her husband before replying to her father, "Indeed. We are journeying to see if my oldest daughter Vanimë is there. We have evidence to suggest she died in Middle-earth."

Her father was silent for several moments.

"He has shown me this diary of hers that Vanië brought. Very interesting indeed that the Valar should admit it here after all the destruction her family has caused. You think this is wise?"

The tone her father had spoken in was controlled bitterness. He had not entirely forgiven her for marrying Caranthir first. He had always hoped she would wed a Teleri, and after her union with Arqueno her father's anger lessened somewhat. His opinion regarding the Noldor, the Fëanorians specifically, mirrored Arqueno's former thoughts. Glancing again at her husband for support, which he acknowledged with a nod of his head, she took a breath before answering.

"The Valar would not have permitted Vanië's journey here had they deemed her unsafe, nor the entrance of Vanimë's diary. It is not their fault they were taken away; they were like elflings in their innocence. And if you have read some of her sister's memories, then you know they found no rest in Middle-earth. Let us not be harsh in our judgment, for I am not entirely without blame. Let me earn some redemption, sire. My heart aches for my daughters; it has been many eons since I have seen them last. Do you not recall their sweet faces, their sounds of laughter? You loved Vanimë best, would you not want to see her once more, to embrace her in your arms?"

Her father's face softened at this, and she knew she had touched something in him.

"I only fear what you will find at the end of the journey. What if she does not want to see you? How will you handle the sundering a second time, only this time it will be her who leaves you?"

Nolwi was quiet, her silence confirming her father's suspicions. He knew his daughter better than even Arqueno. She was hiding something, be it guilt or fear, or both. And the way her husband avoided her now indicated his own guarded secrets as well. Perhaps he had been harsh on her, but she needed to learn the consequences of her actions. No one had forced her into any of her marriages, and this second one to Arqueno worried him more than the first one did at times. There were unresolved issues from her first union, and he often wondered how they affected her. True, Arqueno was a very honorable man, but how many of her hurts had he transcended, and most importantly, which barriers remained inaccessible?

"I will know how to respond. I just need to know if she can forgive me for leaving her with only words, empty, shallow words that meant nothing more than meaningless sounds to her." Nolwi said. "I know she hates me, and I do not blame her, but can I make her understand my actions?"

Her father looked tenderly at her. She spoke with the wisdom of her heart, for which she was rightly named. Sometimes he did not understand why things happened as they did, but he was a firm believer in the fact that there was naught that occurred that the Music did not plan. Every action fell or fair, had a reciprocal meaning. He only hoped that Nolwi would understand.

Taking a sip of his tea, her father replied evenly, "Then go with my blessings, child, and I will pray that you both find some solace. I hear a Lady of great wisdom named Celebrían is in the Gardens of Lórien. Perhaps you should seek her out once you are finished with Mandos."

He directed his words at Arqueno too, and the younger male froze momentarily. Did her father know? He often felt that his father-in-law knew more than he let on.

"We thank you, sir." Arqueno said after regaining his composure.

Nolwi's father nodded at him, then rose to his feet, placing his empty goblet on the table.

"Well, I shall hinder you no further. May your journey be safe, and your quest achieved."

"Thank you, father." Nolwi said, rising to her feet and kissing his cheek.

"I will see you out." Arqueno said.

The two men walked to the great doors together, both silent and contemplating their own thoughts. As the older man donned his cloak, he cleared his throat before addressing Arqueno.

"I know something brews beneath your skin; your eyes depict your agony. I have seen this look before in my Nolwi. She suffered alone. Whatever it is, do not let it consume you any longer. Please, for Nolwi's sake, go to Lórien and speak with Celebrían. She is renowned for her ability to understand even the gravest of hearts and offer compassion. And take Nolwi with you; for her grief has troubled her for too long." he said almost pleadingly. "She is my only child. I know what she feels regarding her daughters because I am a parent, too."

Arqueno watched his father-in-law leave silently. He had touched upon the very things Arqueno himself feared and wished to address. He no longer wanted to suffer through his pain, or to watch Nolwi endure her own guilt. They would journey to Mandos to seek out Vanimë, and from there they would continue onto Lórien to meet with Celebrían. His only wish was to find an end to all this needless suffering. With a sigh he called out to Nolwi to ready herself for the long trip.


	3. Obtaining Blessings

NOTE/DISCLAIMER: Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien; the rest is my own. Name changed-Arquen to **Arqueno**, Olwen to **Nolwi**. Olwë is King of the Teleri in Alqualondë. His brother is Elwë (Elu Thingol of Doriath). Before the Noldor built the dwellings for the Sea-Elves, the Teleri lived in huts on the beach. Please read and review; I only improve through your critiques.

**Obtaining Blessings**

Arqueno made his way back to the dining hall, where Nolwi was giving instructions to a maid.

"…make sure we have enough food and drink for at least a fortnight, we will travel lightly…"

He wrapped his arms around her waist, and she eased herself back into his solid chest.

"Thank you for last night…and the rose petals this morning…" she whispered.

"You enjoyed?" he whispered back, sensually running his hands down her spine.

"Yes, of course…"

He released her.

"I shall be in the stables, looking over the horses and their preparations." he said.

Nolwi nodded. The maid returned with a large pack full of food then. The two women busied themselves making sure everything was sealed appropriately. Content with the food pack, the lady made her way up the stairs and into her bedchambers. She selected a few different outfits each for herself and her husband. They had agreed to take a third horse to carry their provisions for the trip. As Arqueno had assumed, Nolwi was delighted to learn that it would only be her and her husband travelling. They planned on taking not many things, however, instead relying more on purchasing the necessary items they needed, such as food and supplies along the way. And, if Nolwi's hopes came true, then Vanimë would be returning with them. She smiled at this thought and hummed quietly to herself as she tidied up the bed, leaving the rose petals where they lay. When they returned home the scent of the petals would be very welcomed and appreciated.

Arqueno joined her half an hour later. She had the clothing neatly rolled and tucked into sacks that could be slung across the packhorse's back. She informed him of her selections, to which he nodded and agreed to readily. There was a slight furrow in his brow, though.

"We will not be travelling alone." he said.

She turned questioning eyes on him.

"When I was in the stable overseeing the steeds' preparations, our grounds master, Lainanu, overheard me speaking about our absence for a few months on a long journey. He asked me where, and I told him our destination. He then asked if I knew the way, how I planned on seeking game and shelter, and at this I had no answer. So he very kindly offered his services, and I have agreed, for I would lose the way, and I have no knowledge of survival skills in the wild." he said.

She was silent for awhile.

"Lainanu, he is not from Valinor originally?" she asked.

"He is from Middle-earth; he came after the War on Melkor ended. He is Silvan, and knows much of the ways of living off the land, and tending to the earth. Lainanu has mastered Quenyan, with a slight accent. He travelled much upon his coming to Valinor; we will need a trusted guide, someone who can take care of us, for we have never journeyed this far from home alone."

She was inclined to accept then. It was true, neither she nor her husband had any knowledge that could be of service to them in the wild. Arqueno knew basics of self defense, and she knew a few methods of cooking, but it would not do on a journey of this kind. No, they needed a guide, and fate decreed them to be accompanied by Lainanu.

"Very well, then." she said.

Arqueno carried the clothing sacks for her. Their chambers were securely locked, as were the other important rooms. Nolwi instructed her maids to prepare one of the guest chambers, saying, "We may return with another, who might be persuaded to stay awhile."

Their household staff assembled at the great doors, wishing them a safe journey and back again. Arqueno and Nolwi thanked them warmly, then taking each other's hands they stepped over the threshold and down onto the marble steps. Nolwi felt herself tremble at the sound of the doors shutting behind them, and a sudden fear gripped her. What if she could not bear to face her daughter? What if Vanimë refused to listen to her? Her father had tried to warn her but she was too engrossed in her emotional fancies. The lady tensed suddenly.

"What is it?" Arqueno asked, sensing her fright.

"I am afraid." she said. "I do not think I have the strength and heart to journey."

Arqueno lifted her chin so that she was forced to stare into his eyes. Taking both her hands in his, he kissed each of her fingers individually and very sensually.

"If you do not have the heart to go on, I do. If you do not have the strength, I do. What is life without someone you trust to support you; what is our marriage if we cannot do this?" he said. "If this does not renew your resolve, then think of your daughter Vanimë. Think of all she has endured, trials much worse and situations deemed impossible. Yet she triumphed above all, even her own self. Let her then be your guiding light, your saving grace."

Nolwi smiled softly.

"What would I be now had I not wedded you? You are the one factor keeping me together. I do not deserve such a noble man as you, loving me with my imperfections and secrets." she said.

He returned her smile, keeping his thoughts to himself, _'I am no noble'_, yet replying with_,_ "Nay,'tis I who do not deserve you. You are nobler than I could ever be."

Her courage now returned, Nolwi descended the last remaining steps alongside her husband. A tall man with dark hair and bronze skin stood waiting patiently for them, in his hands the reins of four beautiful horses, which stood behind him. Their eyes, glossy and obsidian-like, were directed at the couple who now joined their keeper. Nolwi's steed, a handsome chestnut stallion, neighed softly and stamped his hooves as she reached out a hand to pat his neck.

"He has missed you."

"Lainanu?" Nolwi said.

The Elf bowed deeply, nodding his head.

"At your service. The horses are ready. I took the liberty of adding a few more items to my lord's supplies: tents, a few more blankets, and some hunting gear. Though Valinor may not be as wild as Middle-earth, it never hurts to err on the side of caution. I have also entrusted my duties to the other servants whom I oversee, and should they fail in their efforts, I bear full responsibility."

Arqueno stepped aside to help his wife mount her horse, but she managed quite well on her own, determined to boldly make the first step. She envisioned herself in her daughter's shoes, with no one to guide her. Did all this peace in Valinor make one pampered and dull? Nolwi had observed some of the women who came back from Middle-earth; they all had in them to some degree or other a streak of independence and self-reliability. Not that she wished to be entirely free, but capable of doing more things on her own within her bounds of ideals and propriety. Nolwi then recalled Vanimë's words on this subject, stating that she lost her connection with her feminine side, having been too much the warrior. How ironic, the Teleri thought, that they both were on either edge of the spectrum, Vanimë wishing to be softer, and Nolwi wishing to be stronger. Yet what was the true measure of strength and womanhood? Was it based on only physical power, or elements that were more subtle and harder to discern, such as patience and endurance?

Beside her, Arqueno had mounted his own horse, giving her hand an encouraging pat. They both looked at their great mansion, and before they realized what was happening, they were following Lainanu's white mare steadily out of the courtyard and through the gates. At last they had begun on their great journey for truth and salvation. Arqueno felt a wary excitement come over him.

"To Olwë's halls first, my lord?" Lainanu called from ahead.

Nolwi frowned.

"Why him?" she asked. "Surely we do not need his permission. Many have done this before us."

"True, we do not need his permission, but I want his blessings. He might also give us some good advice. I am sure he has had to deal with situations such as ours."

"But we are not the same as everyone else, Vanimë is…"

Arqueno reined in his horse, pulling up in front of her, a grim determination on his face.

"Vanimë is your daughter. She was killed in Middle-earth. We journey to seek her spirit in Mandos and return her body with us. That is the nature of the matter. Do not make it more thanwhat it is, my dear. Too often matters are expounded and become more than their simple facts."

She nodded her acquiescence at his words. It was true, why should she draw undue attention? She was simply a grieving mother, intent on seeking her daughter's spirit to return home with her, nothing more, and nothing less. She only wished she had the confidence of her husband to display. They had not even left Alqualondë yet and already she wanted to give up on the journey. How could she become more assured of herself if she shied away from this task? But she quickly dispersed these thoughts as the great palace of King Olwë rose before them, a towering sight of glittering crystal and pearls. Her first husband Caranthir and his father had been commissioned to work on this, she remembered silently. Her own father had been the representative chosen to oversee all the preparations. And now, after all these eons, she would enter. She could not help the shiver that ran up and down her spine as she dismounted and stood next to Arqueno.

Lainanu remained outside with the horses as Nolwi followed her husband to the barred gates. The guards, clad in steel armor and with helms shaped like swans, admitted them inside silently with bows. Everything around them was blue, green, gray, golden, or white—the colors of the Sea and the swans. Nolwi recalled gathering the pearls herself from the little harbor bay her parents' house encompassed; the gems were from the Noldor, from her prior husband himself. All those extended stays, heated arguments, curses, and pledges to get the best price on the gems from the dark-haired Noldor to adorn the magnificent palace of Olwë. Only she had never known then that Caranthir had secured a steep price for her hand, and in the end she had severed that tie most cheaply. What a curious thing fate was; the wheels of time spun things in circles.

Arqueno was admiring the architect of the palace. Everything was centered on the Sea and the Teleri's beloved swans from what he could observe. The entrance foyer opened onto a large open hall, with spiral staircases on either side that wound tightly in the shape of a sea snail's shell. There was a motif on the floor of a swan, with obsidians, moonstones, and carnelian gems. The way the Sun filtered through the glass ceiling made the stones sparkle and the image appeared alive. Each level of the staircases had connecting square galleries that led from one to the other, with doors leading to more rooms and halls, overlooking the main hall which housed Olwë's throne. In the midst of this hall a large pool was found, where several of the alabaster swans swam gracefully across the surface. Even as he looked on several courtiers were feeding these birds from their hands. The Noldor had outdone themselves in the design of this palace. Arqueno felt at total ease and bliss. Who could see this place and not gaze in wonder?

At length the couple was called to stand before the King, and reluctantly they left the alcove in which they had been waiting. Arqueno steadied his wife's shaking hands as Olwë came into view. He was dressed in sea-green robes with silver filigree design. His hair, white in color, hung freely around his shoulders, and upon his head he wore a golden crown with a large blue topaz gem in the middle. Upon his fingers he wore rings of pearl and diamond. Piercing gray eyes lit up his fair face, and the couple brought before him knelt on their knees in submission.

"Aran…" Arqueno whispered.

Olwë motioned for them to rise as he seated himself upon his throne, studying them intently.

"Lord Arqueno…I have not heard from you since your petition to Manwë so long ago. Is everything well?" the King asked, his voice a deep rumble.

"Very well, my liege. My wife and I are on our way to Mandos, to seek her daughter Vanimë and return her home. She has died in Middle-earth, protecting the realm of one named Thranduil."

Olwë turned his head slightly.

"Thranduil…he dwelled in Doriath with my brother…he rules now?"

Arqueno nodded. Olwë was silent for some time.

"Vanimë…daughter of Caranthir?" he said.

"The oldest, my lord." Arqueno said, squeezing his wife's hands.

The King turned his gaze upon the lady.

"What bid you come here?" he asked.

"We seek your blessings…and your guidance…my liege…" Nolwi stuttered.

"You seek to return the daughter you cursed yourself and abandoned?"

Nolwi trembled. She nodded and swallowed hard, but no words came out.

"And you wish me to bless this daughter of Kinslayers, to allow her to return here?" Olwë asked.

"My liege, if I may… Vanimë has redeemed herself; she died saving a kingdom wreathed in shadow and chaos. You may wonder at my words, but I have seen myself what she went through. The Valar themselves permitted her dairy to be here! I do not pretend to love the Noldor for what they did, yet I find my heart wavering when it comes to Vanimë and her sister Vanië. They were innocent victims dragged against their will," Arqueno said. "I can prove it to you."

He reached inside his tunic and brought out the coverlet containing the diary. A courtier took the item from him and handed it to the King, who stared at it for a few minutes.

"Those are her memoirs. I beg of you to read them and see for yourself." Arqueno continued.

"The Ban was lifted from the Noldorin Exiles, but the Fëanorians remain Cursed. I see no reason why she should not be treated differently." Olwë said, causing Nolwi to stifle a cry.

Arqueno left his wife and crept up the dais' steps, taking his King's hand and beseeching him, saying, "Please, I beg of you to reconsider." Then he lowered his voice and whispered earnestly, "My wife and I are drifting apart from the hurts we hide from each other. I hide the pact I made with Manwë to not have children in order to wed her, and she is still haunted by her past. Please, we need this. I cannot bear to lose her; and she will be lost from this world, perhaps even to join her daughter's spirit in Mandos. At the very least grant us your blessings."

The man was weeping silently now, pleading with every fiber of his heart and being. Olwë's stern demeanor softened into a pitying smile. He nodded slowly.

"Very well. I shall see for myself what this diary has to convey. I give you my blessings for a safe journey to Mandos, and that you both find all that you seek there. I shall send word to you of my decision: to either allow Vanimë to enter Alqualondë or remain elsewhere. You will know when you arrive to Mandos of my judgment." Olwë said.

Nolwi threw herself on the floor, thanking him profusely between hysterical sobs.

"Thank you, my lord, you do not know what this means to me. The key to unlocking the diary is to run your finger down the pages, for though they are all blank, her thoughts fill them." she said.

"We shall also go to Lórien and speak with a lady named Celebrían. My father-in-law suggested it would be a wise thing to do." Arqueno added. "What is your view, my lord?"

The King nodded, saying, "Celebrían is indeed a skilled healer of the pains that are not physical. Journeying to Lórien will benefit you, but I warn you that it is not for the faint of heart. In order to heal completely, all your scars and hurts must be reconciled with first. I shall return the diary; when you reach Mandos it too shall be awaiting you along with my decision about Vanimë."

Nolwi, now on her feet, bowed deeply again. Arqueno gave his thanks, and the pair made their way slowly back to the entrance hall. Their steps were heavy, but their hearts lightened a bit.

"He was fair in his judgment." Nolwi said.

Arqueno agreed, saying, "It was all we could hope for, and we obtained his blessings."

They spoke no further then as Lainanu appeared, leading the horses. Nolwi mounted her stallion unaided, and Arqueno did not even attempt to help her this time. She was uneasy about leaving the diary with Olwë, but there was nothing that could be done now. It was her only remaining connection with her dead daughter, and she did not even have that anymore. Until they reached Mandos she could not lessen the pain in her soul by re-reading her daughter's words. She had the silence of the long journey ahead of her to mull over Vanimë's memories.

Lainanu broke the quiet, choosing to sing a song from his days in Middle-earth. He apologized for the rough translation, saying he was still revising. His voice was lilting and soothing; after sometime Arqueno asked him to sing in his native tongue, which pleased the Silvan immensely. At first he sang quietly, unsure if he would be desecrating a law, but then he became bolder. In this manner he led the Teleri couple out of their blessed city and into the wilderness of Valinor.

As they bore onwards to Mandos, Olwë was locked in his study, staring at the diary before him. In his hand was a full goblet of wine as he studied the manuscript facing him with due suspicion.


	4. Tale of the Teleri

DISCLAIMER/NOTE: Advanced warning regarding implied torture and mutilation, though not described. I have toyed around with the Laiquendi a bit; since I am not a linguistic I have used Sindarin names for a family in lieu of being unable to find Nandor names. I italicized _Laiquendi_ throughout the chapter because they are hardly known within the greater scheme of Elves. Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is mine. _Council of Elrond_ website referenced. I hope you enjoy this latest installment. The song is _For the First Time_ by The Script; lyrics have been altered slightly. Please read and review.

**Tale of the Teleri**

Lainanu led Arqueno and Nolwi confidently through the wilds of Valinor as Alqualondë slowly faded into the distance. Nolwi was reminiscing on the initial time she had left, headed to her first husband's, Morifinwë (Caranthir), abode in Tirion upon the green hill of Túna. She was foolish, naïve in her pride at having achieved marriage to a Noldo of the line of Fëanor. She had been smitten by Caranthir's brazen looks and crass manner, so unlike the soft and quiet ways of the Teleri men. His roughness appealed greatly to her at first, thinking his need for total authority over her was quite natural. It was not until much later, when she had worked up the courage to ask such questions to other Teleri ladies she met in Tirion who were also wedded to Noldor, that she realized her husband was possessed of a different nature. There they had dwelt for centuries unnumbered in total peace before relocating to Formenos, Fëanor's stronghold, to which he fled after his banishment from Tirion. Nolwi's life with her husband in Formenos had been very tumultuous, and she had begun to hate her daughters for being Noldor and carrying their sire's surname. She hated the secretive manner in which Vanimë had begun to regard her; had her eldest known then of the misfortunes that were to come? The ambiance of Formenos affected the Teleri, for it was in Formenos that Nolwi had cursed her Noldorin husband and daughters. She shivered unconsciously in memory of what she now considered to be her most evil deed.

"Does the fire need more wood?"

The Teleri was roused from her thoughts by the dark Silvan guide. She did not reply, instead watching him place more dry wood into the fire, which crackled and hissed. It was a dark night, black as ink, the sky littered with the stars. The slightest cold wind blew from the west, making her draw her cloak tightly against her body. They were stopped for the night, their camp hidden quite securely in a mountain cave. She observed the man before her with some caution. He spoke Quenyan well, yet his accent was apparent. His bronze skin glowed in the firelight, offset by the long, pale golden color of his hair and his amber eyes. He was quite tall, and his arms and legs were well muscled. Lainanu's manner of dress was cruder than the normal fashion of Valinor, which Nolwi attributed to his heritage. He moved purposefully and with confidence. How must he feel, disconnected from everything he ever knew, she wondered?

"Is there something else?" he asked her, voice steady and deep.

She shook her head, but then called him back.

"Lainanu, if you would not mind, there is something I want to ask you. It may seem too personal, but I really must know," she said. "Please do spare civility; I must hear the information raw."

He obliged her by sitting some distance from her atop a flat rock, tucking his long legs beneath him. He truly looked at home in the wilderness, a feral being when needed, gentle when resting.

"Ask what you may," he said.

"How is it being here in Valinor?" she asked.

Her tone was pleading, and Lainanu sensed something urgent. It was not a pleasantry, she truly needed to know. Though why this fair lady required such knowledge was beyond him. His normal suspicions were quelled as he reminded himself that this was not Middle-earth, where often many a deadly snare lay just underneath the surface of a friendly looking face. This was Valinor, the haven of peace and comfort for all weary souls. Yet, he sensed the ancient troubles that were not all dealt with. He knew even before reaching Valinor that the Blessed Realm was not without its own scars. When he had taken position with this couple as their grounds master, he had been warned of a shadow tainting the lady and her lord. At times he even glimpsed this for himself and wondered if there truly was any tranquility to be obtained anywhere in Arda.

"It is comforting that I do not have to be on my guard. I no longer have to regard every person I meet with suspicion, wonder if every moment that passes where I do not draw my weapon will be my last. I have had to train myself to read people as a precaution. It is not so easy after having spent many centuries focused on deterring danger to simply let go as if it did not exist, as some would have me do. There are those in Valinor who regard my kin as of lesser bearing, as if our own suffering does not account for anything. How can you compare one grief to another? My past is what made me who I am, what brought me here now before you," he said. "I am in fact of the _Laiquendi_, those Elves who became scattered and separated, a lost group of the host of Olwë. We followed Denweg and lived in the forests of Eriador, keeping to ourselves. Even in Middle-earth we were considered a strange tribe with our simplistic and reclusive ways. I do not mind what others think of me; I am content amidst the plants and animals of Arda. They bear no ill will or hold any grudges; there is only beauty and many lessons to understand from nature."

Nolwi absorbed this information carefully. She had assumed that all the Elves of Middle-earth would welcome Valinor readily much in the same way as a person who is exhausted beyond all measure gladly accepts rest without any resistance. She was wrong in her assumptions…again. As she peered at Lainanu across the flickering orange flames of their small campfire, she saw the tempered strength and hardness she had felt in his speech in the way his lips were pressed firmly together to keep the small amount of bitterness out of his words. She did not know much of the _Laiquendi_ herself, only that they were sundered from Olwë, which meant he was a distant kin. Suddenly the disdain with which she regarded him eased a little.

"Of course," Lainanu continued after some time, "this is my own experience. There are others who have had more grief befall them in Middle-earth, and so they welcome Valinor as the respite it is claimed to be. My own tragedies were very limited; I came here with my family. There are times when I miss my days in my old home, but I am content as I said before so long as there is greenness about me. Every person who comes here is a unique individual, with their own ideas and perceptions. Perhaps those who have been here before then travelled to Middle-earth are the most eager upon their return, then again perhaps not. It all depends on the entire experiences one has had in their lifetime, and as Elves we have Time as our companion. Some choose to brood over their hurts and lament to the stars. Others find solace in due time; a portion never do."

"So, there may be those who come here reluctantly, or wish they had never come at all?" Nolwi spoke this sentence in a barely audible voice, her bottom lip quivering.

Lainanu looked at her, his harsh countenance softening as he replied, "There are, my lady."

She rose hurriedly then to her feet and rushed away, fighting back hot tears. Arqueno met her on the way, but she bowed her head and kept on her path. He sighed as he watched her retreating back. He did not understand her anymore. Since leaving Olwë's palace she had retreated into herself, and no amount of coaxing would bring her out of her brooding. She spoke very little, and always seemed close to tears. This was the first time he saw her actively weeping since leaving Alqualondë. It was becoming too much, he deeply regretted mentioning the journey. It was nothing but a huge burden. None of this would have happened had Vanië not arrived with her sister's accursed diary a few months prior. If only Nolwi had listened and thrown out that book! Some things are better left undiscovered. Kicking up the dirt as he walked, Arqueno sank onto the same rock his wife had occupied earlier and buried his head in his hands, groaning loudly.

Lainanu was sitting in the same place Nolwi had left him, perched absolutely still atop the great flat rock. He did not even stir as Arqueno seated himself quite noisily, being too absorbed in the song he was singing. He was deftly plucking at the lute he held, and Arqueno allowed himself to be enveloped by the words the _Laiquendu_ (male _Laiquendi_) sang:

_She is all laid up in bed with a broken heart__  
><em>_While I am drinking wine all alone __  
><em>_And we do not know how we got into this mad situation__  
><em>_Only doing things out of frustration__  
><em>_Trying to make it work but these times are so hard_

__She needs me now but I can not seem to find a time__  
><em>_To put aside my own woes and fears__  
><em>_And we do not know how we got into this mess__  
><em>_Is it the Valar's test__  
><em>Someone help us because we are doing our best_

__Smiling but we are close to tears__  
><em>_Even after all these years __  
><em>_Oh these times are hard__  
><em>_They are making us scarred__  
><em>_Do not give up on me darling__

The words were not as eloquent as Arqueno would have preferred. What did he prefer anymore? He just wanted his wife to revert to her usual self before all this chaos; had she even been happy then? He blamed Vanimë's diary, but it was not the cause. Even before the arrival of the book their marriage had started to weaken because of the underlying secrets they both kept from each other, which only now Arqueno realized. The diary was a catalyst, albeit a very powerful and unexpected one. He felt so powerless and lost; was there any hope for them now? Arqueno was startled by a pair of strong hands being placed on his shoulders quite tentatively. It was Lainanu.

"I beg forgiveness for the song; I should not have chosen it. I fear I upset your lady already, and it seems I have done the same to you as well," he said.

Arqueno shook his head, hastily wiping away his tears.

"You have not done so; I really admired your song. What happened to the couple?" he said.

"They found their solace…after some trouble…" Lainanu answered.

The silver-haired Teleri was silent.

"My lord, I feel something very grievous drives you to Mandos. It is not the wont of the living to seek comfort there. It is a place for those who are to be re-bodied to regain their strength and courage; but of course you know this. Perhaps it is Lórien you should go to," Lainanu said.

Arqueno looked up at his grounds keeper, trying to see beyond the physical layers of the slightly wild man before him. It was his habit to look down upon the Elves of Middle-earth, especially the Silvans, and their predecessors the _Laiquendi_. He did not believe simple and rustic people like Lainanu could understand a situation such as his and his wife's. To Arqueno the likes of Lainanu appeared only to care about their immediate needs. Yet he reined himself, realizing that the man before him, however different, was a Telerin by origin. Compared to the Noldor, all the Teleri were simple people. Was it not their dark-haired counterparts who had built Alqualondë for them and achieved deeds both dark and great? Before that the Teleri had lived on the beach in very humble huts. It was not for naught that the Noldor were considered the most renowned of all the _quendi _(Quenyan: Elves), even Arqueno admitted that privately to himself. Perhaps the Silvans and their forefathers the _Laiquendi_ had found a way to remain wholly Telerin without any interference. There was no shame in leading and loving a simple life, even if others thought it was folly. So long as one was happy and content with one's life that was all that truly mattered. Arqueno was beginning to wonder if he was as content and happy as he proclaimed he was.

Lainanu rose silently and seated himself beside his lord. The _Laiquendu_ felt the desperation and sorrow emanating from him, as well as the partial prejudice directed at him. His ability to read others could not be suppressed, and he could not abandon someone who needed comfort. The sylvan put aside his momentary anger before reaching out to place a comforting hand on the silver-haired man's shoulder beside him. He felt the tension beneath his fingers, as silent sobs racked Arqueno's lithe body. Tonight, the servant would teach the lord a few lessons.

"You and your wife might as well be in different areas of Arda for the vast distance between you; your secrets must be told to one another," he said.

Arqueno raised his head slightly.

"She told you?" he whispered.

Lainanu shook his head.

"She did not. I can read people's emotions and intents, a very complex skill for one who leads a simple life it may seem. It has paid off many a time, however," he replied. "I sense there is great grief between you because of a lost child, am I correct?"

Arqueno nodded, adding, "It is her daughter, not mine. She was wedded before me, and word has just reached us of her eldest's passing in Middle-earth. We journey to return her with us."

Lainanu's thick eyebrows rose in surprise.

"How strange, I was under the impression the Eldar wedded once, save for the notable exception of Finwë. 'Tis a custom we _Laiquendi_ did not uphold because of the dangers we faced," he said.

"Our marriage was achieved by petitioning Manwë himself, in exchange for certain blessings to be relinquished. I have not told her of this," Arqueno said, unsure of why he was answering. But he needed someone to speak with and unload some of his burden. Lainanu would have to do.

Lainanu nodded to himself, confirming his suspicion.

"The pain of a parent losing a child is very unbearable, especially at the parent's own hands," he said, looking into the distance with a sudden glow in his eyes.

Arqueno felt a coldness creep through him; this man could read the deepest of secrets. There was a slight pause before Lainanu spoke again, this time very quietly:

"It was very dark and dangerous in the First Age, especially after Morgoth returned, and in his wake the avenging Fëanorian Noldorin. We _Laiquendi_ had been there much longer, loving the peace of our quiet forest life. We were in total union with nature, taking only what we needed, busying ourselves with philosophical and spiritual matters instead. We disturbed no one, only defending ourselves in times of need. It was a beautiful time then; Middle-earth was in its youth. Like a shy blushing bride, slowly disclosing its greatest joys and marvels…"

It was the proverbial "However…" moment that Arqueno knew was surely coming; this pretty scenario was going to end horridly. He tried to prepare himself for what was to come, but he could not. It was too atrocious; even in years to come he would recall the memory in utter fright.

"Our isolated communities were the perfect opportunity for one of the darkest deeds of Morgoth. He needed varied creatures of doom to command, and he decided to pervert the hallowed image of the Elves. Where better to snatch unwary young Elves than from our forest homes? We were disconnected in both distance and formal relations with the rest of our kindred. No one would know; no one would miss us. So we lost our children, at first a few quick disappearances, then it became entire villages at times. Our weapons were not enough to protect against the blackness of Morgoth's army. We fled over the Ered Luin, following Denethor, our leader Denweg's son, into Doriath where we were recognized as ancient kin to Elu Thingol (Elwë). He gave us Ossiriand as our new home. Of our true reason of coming at long last to Menegroth only a few knew, Elwë included, for we could not conceal a matter this grievous from him," Lainanu continued darkly.

It was Arqueno's turn to lay a comforting hand on his ground master's shoulder in comfort.

"Who did you lose?" Arqueno whispered.

"My son, Achasion, was well named son of fear. From the moment of his birth he was always

afraid of the dark, of being left alone. I never noticed this until much later, when it was too late.

My wife, Sídhwen, always cautioned me about leaving him on his own. One fateful evening, I ran ahead of him to retrieve the deer I had shot for our dinner. He tarried awhile longer than his wont, except he never came. There were signs of forced possession of him. I followed the trail to see where it led before returning to my village and raising the alarm. But there was no need; a few other children had been taken. My wife was beside herself, making me swear to not return home unless I had him with me. I will not tell you of the perils of the journey, of the people we lost going after the abductors, but after a great length of time we reached our destination. It was an underground pit, deep in the bowels of the mountains. We found the site of the Orc-making. It is too horrid to describe. Suffice to say that when I found my son, he was not the same. He had become what he feared most, a loathsome fell creature of the dark. I believe some resonance of light remained within him, because when I rushed at him, full of anger, fear, and a broken spirit, he simply stood his ground, almost as if welcoming my advance…" Lainanu said.

Lainanu's voice broke, and even Arqueno could not help the cry that escaped him.

"How did you know it was him?" the lord asked his servant.

"I had given him a token that he treasured above all else: a necklace made of the first bear's teeth he had slain. If he had been killed, it would be worthless. It was my son that I slew, that and the manner in which it—my son—stood left me without any doubt at all. He was seeking release. I came back home with his necklace to show Sídhwen. She blamed me, cursed me, saying I had killed him. I had, but I could not tell her. She left me to come here and look for him. Being too ashamed and grieved, I could not sail until I exacted some revenge against the perpetrators. So, you see, even the _Laiquendi_ have their own woes as terrible as anyone else and understand pains as deep and complex as yours. At least you did not have children and lost them yourself, as your lady and I have. I hope you never feel the emptiness and lack of self-worth that we both do."

He rose then as quietly as before, leaving Arqueno to reflect carefully over his words, adding quickly, "I beg of you to contain the matter from your wife, she will not be able to bear the tale."


	5. Mandos

Note/Disclaimer: I make no money off this. Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien. _Council of Elrond,_ _Valar Guild_, and _Encyclopedia of Arda_ sites referenced. Please read/review, and enjoy. :)

**Mandos**

Arqueno could not rest well that night. He slipped in and out of consciousness fitfully, his mind full of frightening images of elflings being tortured by Balrogs with whips of flame, laying starved in dungeon pits cut off from the sunlight. Again and again he watched the young youth with the bear teeth necklace turn into a hideous creature of the night, only to be cut down by his father. How was it, to be faced with your own child, and that the only answer for salvation for either was death? How many times did Lainanu relive that memory, alone? Arqueno only knew the pain of having no children; he could not imagine the pain of his grounds master, or his wife.

Beside him lay Nolwi, still resting. Her face was lined with tear tracks; she had cried herself into an uneasy reverie. Her golden hair was covering her face, and ever so gently he brushed the silky strands from her cheeks. A faint blush appeared from his caresses, and she murmured softly as she turned onto her side, gracing him with her gray eyes twinkling merrily up at him. Her supple features were creased with what he knew to be anguish and pain over Vanimë. His breath caught in his throat at the sight of her breasts' slow rise and fall, clearly visible because of the low cut neckline of her attire. She reminded him of an early morning sunrise in all its glory, and her scent was of delicate flowers. She was worth all the sacrifices he had to make, and much more.

"_Mára aurë, vendë vanya_ (Quenyan: Good morning, beautiful maiden)," he whispered sultrily to her, with a hot kiss to her lips between each word, causing her to gasp audibly for breath.

There was a sudden loud clearing of a throat.

"Breakfast is ready, if you care to eat," Lainanu said, as if oblivious to their situation.

Nolwi giggled merrily as Arqueno called out that they would indeed join him shortly. Lainanu informed them that a pot of warm water was just outside their tent so they could properly freshen themselves before leaving them to their own devices, though he could not help the smile that crept across his face. It was good for them, they needed to rebind with each other. Their marriage could still be saved if they rekindled their love and understanding, turned their pain and secrets into compassion and mercy. He feared for them, especially for Nolwi, if their attempt at gaining some peace failed. The comforts of Valinor only served to nurture their wounds. They joined him an hour later, freshened up and with sober faces. Arqueno nodded to him in greeting.

"We apologize to have kept you waiting for us; we ran into some trouble," Arqueno said.

Lainanu smiled into his metal cup of tea.

"I hardly noticed the time; I have packed my belongings," he replied.

The two men considered each other silently over their cups. Arqueno was still turning over the strange Elf's tale. Not a single bout of grief lined his face, and the Teleri wondered how one could live with such a burden. To have knowingly killed your own child—what kind of strength does that take, especially when your child is no longer someone you recognize, but rather a vile and cursed creature of the darkness and shadows, your enemy? Would it have been any easier if he had killed him unknowingly? Which pain was lighter to carry through the millennia? How had Lainanu and his wife gotten through this pain together and found some solace to cling to?

Nolwi was completely silent. Since Lainanu sat across from her she could not bring herself to look up at all. She had not rested well, her dreams too uneasy. Again and again she saw the burning docks of Alqualondë, Vanimë and Vanië being led away by Morifinwë (Caranthir) towards the ship which Fëanor had boarded. Their screams were desperate as they begged both their mother and father—to not abandon them and to rethink their actions, respectively. This time however, Nolwi dreamt that she had taken up a fallen sword, blood dripping like rubies from its edge, and slain her daughters. For her action the Valar had granted her wish, and her marriage was absolved from Morifinwë. She was saved from the disgrace of having left her husband, and allowed to remarry. Later, though, she had given birth, and the familiar face of Vanimë haunted her, crying out to avenge her and her sister's unlawful deaths. Where this element of murdering her own children came from Nolwi did not know, but it frightened her immensely. Not even in her dreams it seemed could she escape her past. She prayed to find an answer in Mandos.

After breakfast, which consisted of bread, cheese, tea, and dried meat leather strips, Arqueno and Nolwi packed their tent and belongings while Lainanu set about clearing any sign of their camp in the mountain cave. Not that there was any real need to do so, but it was a habit, and old habits die hard, or in his case, never. He sighed heavily as he looked out from the mouth of their cave; he could live here in this very cave until the ending of the World, but he felt connected to his lord and lady. In a way, he had become their anonymous shepherd. He had purpose again. This was his fear when he left Middle-earth, that he would be lost, no reason for his existence. Yet when he became Arqueno's ground master, he had felt something settle deep inside of him, an unwavering bond. It had bothered him for many centuries that he did not know the reason or cause…until last night. The _Laiquendu_ had felt the pain and wounds of both his master and lady, and his compassion compelled him to take them both under his wing. He would support them, making sure that they find the light in the darkness that engulfed them. Hearing them approach, Lainanu cleared the dreary thoughts from his mind, forcing a smile upon his face as he bowed.

"Are we ready?" he asked.

Arqueno and Nolwi nodded. Silently Lainanu easily relieved Arqueno of the tent and pack he was having some difficulty carrying. The Teleri thanked him with a strong clasp of his forearm, to which the blond man inclined his head. Nolwi had already mounted her steed, and the two men followed her suit. Making a final check that nothing was left behind and all was cleared away, Lainanu led them carefully down the mountain path. Arqueno was directly behind him.

Nolwi rode behind the pair at a distance. She was studying the way they seemed to connect. She had never known her husband to befriend any of the servants; he had a very reserved opinion regarding those who were not of noble bearing, especially the lesser Elves of Middle-earth. He had told her that he could not understand why they would be allowed into Valinor, that their pain was not great like the Teleri. Why he would strike up a relationship with Lainanu was beyond her. Perhaps he was only asking how much longer they had until they would reach Mandos' Halls. The journey had been exhilarating, but now she was weary and simply wanted answers.

Ahead, Arqueno was in conversation with his grounds master.

"I could not rest at all. I kept dreaming about your son, and the way you found him. I cannot even begin to imagine how you had felt, how you managed to do what you did," he said. "I know I could never do such a thing as you did, could never summon the needed strength."

Lainanu was quiet for a moment before replying.

"Forgive me if this comes across harshly, but you seem to assume that the lives of those of us who lived in Middle-earth could not possibly compare to what you endured in the First Age at the hands of the Kinslaying Noldor—that we cannot understand such pains as you have felt during the Kinslaying. I felt that from you last night, but did not wish to inflict further pain upon you, so I said nothing. I understand your pain, and why you would think like this. It is the very reason why I shared my story with you last night. Your prejudice is more akin to the loftiness of the Noldor; why should you judge others in such a manner? But I sense a change within you; I hope the story of my son has served its purpose in proving to you the merit of Middle-earth's pains. Even someone as simple as me can comprehend your hurt better than even yourself.

"To answer, you, however, I was quite devastated, torn at my very core. But I could not allow my emotions to overpower me in that moment or my wife would have lost both son and husband. I did what I had to do, nothing less, nothing more. It was only later, after I returned home and told my grieving wife the news did the realization and impact truly hit me. Sometimes it is best not to think and dwell, but simply to react. The nature of my lifestyle made me who I am, just as the manner of your lifestyle here may be more conducive to constant brooding rather than action. If there is a lesson to be learned, I learn it. I am not one to brood. Even the Noldor, after realizing their mistake in bringing the Ban upon their selves did not brood their past actions. They founded great kingdoms and performed valiant deeds of renown, some of which are even sung about here in Valinor. If there are any who deserve to mourn, it is the Noldor, for they suffered greatly, much more than me, bringing about their own doom then redeeming themselves."

Lainanu's amber eyes were dark with the anger that he managed to quell for the most part. His words were tempered, yet Arqueno felt the underlying tone. His servant was a proud man, one who had led a rougher life than he, with pains worse than his. The Teleri had offended him. He thought about what he would have done had he been Lainanu and could not arrive at anything more than brood his deep pain. Arqueno would have mourned his loss; he would not have killed his own son. The grief would have been too much for him to bear. Perhaps the _Laiquendu_ was right in saying that the differing atmospheres of Middle-earth and Valinor prompted their varied responses to their circumstances. After the massacre at Alqualondë, the Teleri were too shocked to absorb anything. They spent their time afterwards in mourning, and looking back now in light of his conversation with Lainanu, Arqueno realized that he did not truly achieve anything except a passive anger and biased views—views he formerly associated only with the Noldor. Even after their Ban had been lifted, and their deeds forgiven, he had clung to his feelings. Who was he, in comparison to the Valar, to vainly contradict their decrees with his beliefs?

"Perhaps you are correct, brooding and mourning incessantly do nothing of benefit to one's soul and heart. They are only instruments of the weak. I see now my errors," Arqueno said. "For my offensive mannerisms I apologize, and beg your forgiveness. I meant no ill will or bad feelings."

Lainanu smiled in acknowledgement. His tale had achieved its purpose.

"How did you and your wife manage?" Arqueno asked.

"Truth be told, I released her from my bond of marriage. As I said to you last night, the ways of the _Laiquendi_ are different from those of the Eldar. We may freely dissociate, given there is a reasonable cause. She could not bear the loss of our son, and would not believe me when I told her I found him slain. She persisted until I gave in and told her…she was never the same after that. One night, coming home late after a hunt, the house was empty. She left me word saying she was going to seek our son in Valinor; she believed he would be saved. She loved our son more than anything, little _Cugur_ (dove-heart) she called him," Lainanu said.

Arqueno was silent, afraid to ask anything more. Lainanu's quietness confirmed his fears.

"You must tell your wife everything, and she must be willing to hear you out, and your reasons. Likewise, you must do the same, be open when she shares her own secrets. There is nothing like the distance between you and your spouse…especially when that distance never shrinks."

Lainanu spoke this last sentence in almost a whisper, his face lined with the sorrow of his heart. It was the first time Arqueno had seen him in such a state, and he felt guilty for causing it.

"I am truly sorry; I did not mean for you to revisit those memories," he said, placing a tentative comforting hand on the golden-haired man's shoulder.

"You did not; you are not the only one going to Mandos. I come here to see my son," Lainanu said. "I have not seen him yet…it was too traumatic for him…he has not healed yet…"

"And your wife?"

"In Lórien…she refuses to see me…I know I said last evening that everything resolved for the couple in the song I sang, but I could not bring myself to tell you my story, and have you think it will be the same for you. Who knows, you may have a happier ending than mine. I was too proud to tell my wife the reality of matters, and when I did it was far too late. Do not follow my lead, whatever your reasons may be, or else you will be like me, or worse. You have a lovely wife, do not lose her. We should reach Mandos before evening sets. Please think over my words wisely."

...

The climb up the steep rocky path beside the shoreline seemed endless. There was no sound as they ascended, and this weighed heavily on both Arqueno and his wife. Lainanu alone seemed composed, but he had experienced this before. Only the slightest twinge of his hand gave away any indication of his true feelings. On and on their steeds climbed, until it seemed that they were treading but going nowhere at all. Then quite suddenly, the formidable gates of Mandos' Halls came into view. Though no sentinel appeared to guard them, they swung open apparently of their own accord, absorbing the three travelers into the vast courtyard beyond, closing noiselessly behind them. There was a quiet whisper as if of many voices, or of a faint wispy wind. Looking to Lainanu for their next step, Arqueno motioned for Nolwi to remain seated astride her horse. Several minutes later, a form appeared, almost imperceptible. A pale hue resonated about it. The _Laiquendu_ dismounted, and his lord and lady followed suit. The trio was led by this pale being towards a great white light pouring down a smooth staircase. All around them was a mist, adding to the mysterious and intimidating ambiance of this legendary place. The pale creature stopped suddenly, indicating the flight of stairs spiraling upwards to Lainanu, who nodded in return.

"You must continue on with the Maia…we shall meet later…" he said to Arqueno.

Nolwi found herself rendered immobile suddenly. She had never been outside the safety of her home, and now she stood at the threshold of Death itself. A cold wind blew around her, sending shivers up and down her spine, making her tremble. Arqueno draped his fur-lined cloak over her shoulders, pulling her into him. Their silent guide began to glide slowly down the long main hall, pausing briefly to assure that the visitors were following.

In contrast to the inviting palace of Olwë, Mandos was a place very dark and closed. The walls, floor, and ceiling appeared to be sculpted out of obsidian, then polished to the extent that Nolwi felt she was walking on dark water. The windows, very high and arching into the walls, were open to the outside without any barrier at all, and from far below came the sound of the crashing waves against the cliff wall. There was a mist that seeped everywhere, enveloping the Halls from the outside so it seemed to only be a great cloud. The silver, black, and midnight blue hues of Mandos provided a chilling effect for Nolwi. All along the walls were tapestries, and with a sudden realization the lady understood them to be the workings of Vairë, Námo's wife. Even as Nolwi peered closely at the tapestries, she saw the mist converging at the very end of the hall twisting and turning until it became part of the Tale of the World adorning Mandos. Nolwi then wondered where in this infinite story her part was, and more importantly, how would it end.

Into the central mass of this silvery mist Nolwi and Arqueno were led by their guide. From an unknown location, the sound of drums began to beat slowly, the crescendo rising with each step the married couple took towards what they hoped would be the Master and Mistress of Mandos. An eerie voice lifted in song, its words and meaning unfathomable to the Elves, yet filling them with a great dread. Their guide halted suddenly, stepping aside, head bowed. Two figures sat in great thrones, and before them knelt a man, his hands upheld before him. The lord sitting in the throne rose to his feet, moving fluidly down the dais steps to the prostrating form below. From the floor beside the man, a woman's voice rose in the eerie song that Arqueno and Nolwi heard. As she continued to sing, another lady, seated in a second throne, wove intricate designs from the mist that flowed from behind her, so that a great silvery web-like material gathered in her lap and floated to the walls. Here was Vairë, weaving the web of Time itself before them. Her husband glanced briefly at the newly arrived visitors before passing his great scepter over the prostrate man, who merely dissipated into small particles of light, flying in circular motion above them before vanishing entirely. He then passed his scepter beneath the waters of a fountain that stood in the middle of the hall, and as he did the lady on the floor finished her woeful lament with a sudden cry. Vairë dismissed the Teleri's escort with a quick flick of her wrist.

"Greetings, Arqueno and Nolwi, and welcome to Mandos. Your arrival has been anticipated."

It was Vairë who spoke, her words slow and measured, her voice velvety and quiet. Arqueno dared to raise his eyes to meet her gaze, and his breath stopped in his throat. She was utterly beautifully, this Valië. Like the hues of her abode, she had black tresses, and her skin glowed with a pale silver hue. It was her eyes, though, that drew him the most. Midnight blue in color, and as he looked into them, he felt Time stop to a standstill. She gave him a small smile then.

"Then you know what it is we seek, my Ladies and Lord," Arqueno said, blushing, and dropping his gaze to his feet. "We have come to return Vanimë home with us."

At this, Námo turned his head to look upon the silver-haired Arqueno. The Vala was completely what his wife was not: very grim and harsh in appearance, though not without beauty. His white hair fell down past his shoulders, framing an ashen face. His eyes were dark and penetrating, his face half-hidden behind the hood of his black robes. His essence seemed shadowy, as if at any instant he would vanish just as the man before him had. The thin scepter he gripped in his hand flashed as he waved it at Arqueno, looking over him and his wife carefully.

"It is not the wont of the living to venture here," he began, his voice as light and shadowy as his appearance. "Have you despaired so much that you seek your judgment yourself?"

There was a small sigh from the lady by the fountain, who remained kneeling on the floor.

"They will not admit, not here, not yet," she said, rising to her feet slowly.

She gripped something in her hands. Nolwi gave a small cry, dropping to her knees in hysterics as she recognized the coverlet of her daughter's diary.

"Please, I beg you…that is all I have left linking me to her…please…"

Námo did not turn his head as he addressed the distressed Nolwi.

"Do not fear, for my sister Nienna takes great pity on you. When she heard of your plight, she left her own dwelling to await your arrival. Consider yourselves blessed, for none of the Fëanorians has been spared our wrath like your daughter has."

Nolwi lifted her golden head as she felt Nienna's hand upon her shoulder. The Valië wiped the grief stricken Teleri's tears carefully from her face. Nolwi gazed at the Lady before her, noting how she was garbed in gray, with dark hair, and how her black eyes penetrated deep into her soul—but instead of judgment and grimness there was only compassion and understanding.

"Vanimë is here, then?" Nolwi whispered, causing Nienna's eyes to glitter with moisture.

"She is…"


	6. Sins of the Fathers

DISCLAIMER: Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Many thanks to my beta, Crackers, for her relentless patience as she assists me with this. Without further ado, I present chapter 6! Thanks to my readers who have been patient; I have had some writer's block. Please read and review!

**Sins of the Fathers**

Nolwi let out her breath, releasing a cry so anguished that Nienna's eyes began to fill with tears.

"…not here…" continued the Valië.

Nolwi lifted her head, her expression frozen between happiness and puzzlement.

"I do not understand…"

In that moment, everything seemed to stop. Arqueno stood beside his wife, unsure of himself. The three Valar regarded Nolwi silently, but it was Nienna who took her gently by the waist and sat her down on the floor beside the fountain, scooping water from the basin and tenderly wiped her face. The Teler said nothing, simply remained sitting, shocked beyond all measure. Arqueno looked to Nienna for answers, pleading silently with his eyes.

"Her _fëa_ was in a state of dire need; torn from her _hroa_ (body) temporarily, she was bound to neither the living nor the dead. Vanimë remained in this state for a small duration of time before her _fëa_ desired to return to her _hroa_ in Middle-earth. She has suffered much, and even my brother pities her, though he will not say so. I am sorry, but Vanimë is not with us," Nienna explained slowly.

"But I saw her die…" Nolwi said, glancing hesitantly at her husband.

Nienna stroked the lady's cheek kindly, shaking her gray-tressed head.

"Vanimë lives. The narrative in her journal ended, but its continuation is located elsewhere," she replied. "You believe she is dead because you did not know this…until now."

"Continuation?" Nolwi whispered.

Námo spoke, his voice slightly softer, "We cannot say anything further other than this: Vanimë is alive and in Middle-earth. You are both to journey to Lórien; there all your questions shall be answered, and perhaps your troubles will finally be laid to rest. You cannot linger anymore in the state that you have been; the time has come for both of you to make decisions."

The Lord rose to his feet then, sweeping his gaze slowly over Arqueno and Nolwi before moving down the dais steps and disappearing into the shadows of his abode. Only the Ladies Nienna and Vairë remained with the travelers. Vairë turned to the married couple next.

"You will stay here tonight; you need to regain your strength in order to continue your journey. Much has occurred that brought you to where you are now, yet there remains much more to unfold before understanding can be achieved."

Vairë's eyes glittered suddenly. She stared off into the distance, her fingers working rapidly as if working an invisible shuttle. Upon closer inspection Nolwi and Arqueno detected a pale shape bearing strong resemblance to a harp.

"What is she doing?" Nolwi whispered to Nienna.

"Lady Vairë is weaving the Web of Time in accordance to the Music," Nienna responded.

Vairë's delicate fingers stopped their intricate dance after a few moments, and with a wave, the harp disappeared. She then descended the dais steps. The Telerin couple fell to their knees, heads bowed to the ground. They felt the Lady place a hand on each of their heads, and with her touch a feeling of serenity washed over them. They felt their eyes close. In the distance they could hear a soft whisper of voices. Then the Lady's voice spoke to them:

"The Tale of Arda is woven in the halls of Mandos, fashioned uniquely by each individual and their part in the Music. Every action and spoken word has a rippling effect on this Tale, its own part interconnecting with others'. Your story has progressed with the centuries, and now is at a crossroads. You have the choice as to how it shall close: whether it becomes a tale of trials and despair, or one of ultimate triumph. The path you have taken thus far leads to salvation, yet there remains a final reckoning. This will determine your tale's fate. Search deep within your _fëar_; ask what it is you truly want, for there is no choice in Arda that does not bear with it a penalty."

Arqueno felt a chill travel down his spine upon hearing those last words. He was reminded of the day he bargained with Manwë's herald for his wife's hand in marriage. The very same warning was given, and in his haste he did not thoroughly evaluate his choice until too late. Now here he faced the same situation once more—would he choose wisely this time?

Nolwi knelt beside her husband, as silent as he, yet her mind was not so. She too was recalling her own past, when she was given a choice and did not reflect long on its consequences before deciding. Her plea of despair shortsightedly granted her some peace, yet what did she earn for the future? Only more heartache and grief, and the secrets she keeps from her husband.

Mandos' spouse lifted her hands from the Teleri, whispering words of encouragement to the couple as she did. Nolwi and Arqueno remained in their positions, watching the Valië glide away gracefully after her husband. Ahead of them on the dais the silvery web-like material continued to gather. Yet as they watched, it began to weave and contort, seemingly of its own accord, before wisping away onto the Tapestry of Time.

Nienna observed the Teleri, a sad smile on her face.

"Even though she is not physically present, she always weaves the Tale of the World. Only when Ilúvatar commands Arda's end will the full Tale be told," she said.

Nolwi and Arqueno rose to their feet. Nienna continued:

"I shall take you to your chambers for the night. I suggest you completely rest your minds now, then in the morning when you awaken counsel deep within yourself—reflect upon what it is that you truly desire. Are you completely content with your own tale?"

The gray-clad Valië beckoned to the pair with open arms. Her face was full of the sadness and tears that she was known for. Amongst the Valar she had the most pity for the souls who returned to Mandos, and frequently came to her brother's abode to counsel the despondent and strengthen the weak. Tonight's charges were no different. Nienna turned to Nolwi, handing Vanimë's journal to her.

"This belongs to you. We have known everything," she said, indicating the Tapestry. "You sought counsel with your King, and to obtain his blessings. His decision is thus: whatever you decide you have his consent. He only asks you to be true to yourselves and each other."

Nolwi accepted the journal wordlessly, tears streaming down her face.

Arqueno spoke then, "We greatly appreciate your counsel, Lady. But now, if you would be so kind as to guide us to our chamber? My wife and I both are quite weary."

Nienna nodded, and the Telerin couple followed the Valië as she led them deeper into Mandos. The sound of the beating drums, which had been absent in the throne hall, returned in the same tempo as when they first entered Mandos. The ambiance had been of twilight, yet as they neared the entrance it became lighter, similar to a dawn. The glossy obsidian structure caught the rays of light at differing angles, so that at times the Teleri felt they were walking amidst the stars, yet at others it seemed they were staring at the sea in the hours of early morning.

The staircase they ascended brought them onto a smooth landing. There was no other level as far as they could tell, for no further steps were to be seen. Unlike Olwë's palace, which was open, Mandos' abode was closed and formidable. From the landing several hallways could be seen winding away in the distance. There was a perceivable and distinct aura about each of these passages: one emanated warmth and light, the second was more somber. The final passage on the uttermost right side was very dark, and the Teler shuddered as they looked in its direction.

After a few moments, Nienna spoke:

"You seem to have noticed the differing passages. Each _fëa_ that returns here after being released from its body is judged by my brother before its place is assigned. There is one for the very young—children mainly. Another is for the more mature in age. Further, there are subdivisions. Many attendants care for these disembodied _fëar_, helping them adjust to their new status and cope with their passing from one sphere into another. I spend much of my time there, counseling."

Nolwi could not take her eyes from the passage to the right, which Nienna did not address.

"Whose _fëar_ are placed there?" she asked.

Nienna turned glittering eyes towards the lady, replying, "Those chambers are reserved for the lost, those who become blind and in the Darkness and despair of Endor."

The Valië let her gaze linger momentarily on the lady before continuing, "Each _fear_ remains alone and is invisible to bodily eyes, even to those with whom they had bonds of love in life. The point here is for _fëar_ to become stable enough to be rehoused if they choose. Once rehoused, they are sent to Lórien for further care. Some _fëar_ refuse to be rehoused, others are never to be rehoused.

"Your chambers are not part of any of these passages. As visitors to these halls you have separate locations. You are not to wander. May you rest well! The morrow heralds your decisions. Search deep within your hearts."

The Valië led them to their chambers, and the Teler welcomed the opportunity to rest. Their rooms were small but comfortable; the furniture was sparse, yet exactly what they required.

Alongside the posterior wall was a window, though upon closer inspection it was discovered to be a mirror. Whatever mood the observer was succumbing to at the time was reflected back at the individual. Arqueno felt himself to be utterly lost, so when he gazed into the window-mirror he saw a view filled with gray clouds and many paths leading into a maze. When Nolwi gazed at it she saw herself standing in the midst of dark rainclouds, felt the cold chill dampen her spirit and soul as tears poured down ceaselessly from her eyes.

Beneath this was a plain wooden bed, opposite of which was a rack to hang garments. A small archway to the right led to the bathing room. To the left was a small sitting area with several chairs and a chaise. The floor, ceiling, and walls were sculpted from white crystal, unlike the obsidian of Mandos' first level. Free-floating candles lit the rooms from miniature recesses hollowed in the walls.

There was food on a carved marble table. Suddenly Arqueno and Nolwi realized the extent of their hunger and hurried to eat. They uttered a quick prayer of thanks before filling their plates with the meat, vegetables, bread, and fruit. Pitchers with various drinks stood glinting in the twilight-like ambience. Not a single word passed between them as they ate and drank; never before had they felt so famished or thirsty. The food sated their appetite, fortifying their resolve. It was neither light nor heavy, but perfectly right to sustain their ravenous bodies.

After eating and drinking, the couple rose from their chairs, and before their very eyes the table cleared itself. Fresh pitchers of drinks and goblets replaced the previous set, along with a new bowl of fruit.

The Telerin couple headed into the bathing chamber, where two tubs stood ready for them. Clean robes lay on the floor, neatly folded. Still silent, they each undressed and slipped into their own pool. Eyes closed, they rested their heads and allowed themselves to simply lay in the soothing bath water. Their thoughts went hither and thither, to the past and back again. For how long they simply lay in the water, they did not know. It felt as if all their lives they had been waiting for this moment to simply lounge about in Mandos' bathing pools.

There was no need to hurry. The longer they remained in the water, the lighter they felt, as if the bath was washing away their weariness and troubles. The weight of their burdens seemed to be greatly lessened. Eons might have passed when at long last they felt they could leave their baths.

Reaching across the expanse between them, Arqueno grasped his wife's hand tenderly and together they rose to their feet. He had a towel in his arms with which he wrapped his wife in gently, and she did the same to him. The towels molded to their bodies, and the couple found themselves suddenly clothed. The material was silk-like to touch and felt as if they were bare. The color was the purest shade of white they had ever seen.

"To bed, then?" Arqueno asked his wife, the first words they had shared since speaking with Nienna.

Nolwi, brushing her hair silently, nodded slowly in response.

"Come, my love, let us rest now," Arqueno whispered.

Husband and wife lay together in bed, the softness of the sheets enveloping them. Above Arqueno the window-mirror still displayed a maze, and for Nolwi the rain still fell, though her tears had dried. The sheets caressed their tired bodies, lulling them into rest.

Arqueno's thoughts did not cease even as his body lay still next to his wife. Over and over he replayed the night of the Kinslaying. There he stood on the docks of Alqualondë, watching the Noldor sail away on his kin's ships, their mocking laughter mocking proclaiming victory. How his blood boiled for many an Age afterward! After wedding Nolwi he could not help the jealousy and hatred that crept into his heart when she mourned the loss of her daughters. At times he would come upon her reminiscing about her former husband. Arqueno could not comprehend why she would long for Caranthir at times, after all the turmoil she endured on his account.

And how could she weep for the traitor's children? They were offspring of an evil nature; they could never be saved. Until the arrival of Vanië with her sister's journal, Arqueno did not have a true understanding of the hardships the ladies had to endure. His heart had begun to soften, though his mind clung to shreds of hate. Over and over his thoughts churned. Finally, he rose from the bed and went silently to the door, deciding to walk for a spell in the main hall until he was weary enough to rest.

His feet carried him as his mind continued its frenzied churning. Suddenly a heaviness possessed him, and his feet slowed, his mind was open. Arqueno knew where his thoughts were going before he reached his destination; his mind was in the elven-resting place of waking dreams.

Arqueno found himself standing in an ancient forest filled with trees and plants he had never seen before The land was of a golden hue, with soft white light emanating all around him. He perceived a contentment here he did not know he could feel. It was as if nothing else could ever satisfy him. All he wanted was to stay here, for he knew once he ventured from this place that he would never find such security and solace again.

Lainanu stood beside a small hut, beckoning him inside. He was garbed in deer hide, face painted with different colors. Arqueno followed him inside, where a child stood on the ground, playing with something that flashed white—a bear tooth necklace. Arqueno stifled a gasp.

"Cugur…" he breathed.

The child raised his eyes to the Teler. There was a softness about him that made the noble man's heart break. He was as has name implied, dove heart.

"His mind is trapped within his soul; he will not forgive me for leaving him," Lainanu said, tears streaming down his face. "He brings me to this memory here every time so that I may not forget what I did to him. I am being punished for my sins."

Arqueno did not say a word, not wanting to know anymore. Yet Lainanu continued:

"He did not want to go hunting with me; he told me he felt something would happen to him. I had grown impatient that my son was not as brave as the other men's sons. I was being teased that I had a daughter in a son's body. In my frustration I forced my son to come hunting with me so I could boast to the village men that my son was fierce. I favored pride over my son's love.

"I shall never forget the look on Cugur's face when we left our home. He had known what would happen, but because he loved me he acquiesced to my wishes. He embraced me tightly and told me that he would forgive me, but if I could only forgive myself now—"

Arqueno ran then, heading for the doorway and out of the hut, which seemed terribly far away. He reached the threshold and collapsed onto the forest ground, only to find the contents of his stomach erupting like molten lava from him. He wished he never came about this knowledge. He felt Cugur's emotions as his father yelled at him: love of the child for the sinning father. Cugur had sacrificed himself willingly.

A firm hand was laid upon Arqueno's shoulder. Looking up, the Teler found himself staring into Lainanu's amber eyes.

"Too often children are the ones to pay the price for their parents' choices. They do so knowing exactly what will happen because they are blinded by love. In doing so, however, they also find their voice; they are able to communicate to us our mistakes. As parents, though, we may never understand the message. For me, I understood this quickly. For your wife, however, the realization that she had sinned greatly against her daughters was not apparent until some time after the fact. Either way, it was far too late by the time we finally understood our mistakes.

"Sometimes children are the parents and parents become the children, and in your wife's case, I believe that this has happened. A parent may be wrapped up in their own dream, but when it fails, the only strength to be found is in the children."

Arqueno swallowed.

"Are my wife and I children?"

Lainanu held out his hand and pulled his lord to his feet, replying, "Only you can decide that."

* * *

><p>Author's Note: I have taken some liberty with the canon of Tolkien. <em>Laws and Customs<em> states that the _fëar_ do not communicate with anyone. I have bent this somewhat in having Lainanu perceive his son's emotions. Also, I know I have been cryptic in terms of Vanimë's status, but I beg of you to remain patient. Everything shall be explained within the next two chapters.


	7. Dark Dreams, Silent Sentinels

DISCLAIMER: Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Many thanks to my beta, Crackers, for her relentless patience as she assists me with this. I know that the Eldar do not believe in this separating of marriage bonds. However, I will take some liberty on account of the Laiquendi being lost Elves and not seeing the Light of Valinor. I will make it a little A/U and say that the Laiquendi a more free-spirited and view "divorce" to be ok-so long as there are valid reasons. Thanks to my readers who have been patient; I have had some writer's block. Please read and review!

One final note: I will be away for 3wks starting this Wednesday. I will not be uploading but will be working on the next chapter (or more hopefully!).

**Dark Dreams, Silent Sentinels**

Arqueno awoke on the floor, his body drenched with sweat. He caught sight of his reflection in the obsidian floor, pale and shaking. Next to his head was a pool of his own vomit. The images in his mind had not truly occurred, yet the mess on the floor indicated otherwise. He saw the tips of soft shoes, and glancing upwards, there was Nienna, gazing down upon him, tears coursing down her face.

"Come with me, let me help you back to your chambers," she said softly.

The Teler took hold of her outstretched hand and pulled himself unsteadily to his feet. The Valië waited for him to regain his balance. He stripped his shirt and used it to mop up the mess he had created on the floor. Carefully folding his shirt so as not to spill the concealed contents, he allowed himself to be escorted back to his chambers.

But they did not go immediately to the Elf's chambers. Nienna stopped suddenly and pulled the weary Arqueno behind her into a set of rooms similar to the one he and his wife were sharing. She sat him down in a sturdy chair whose back was lined with velvet. As he leaned into it, she bustled about, gathering a silver tray upon which a goblet full of water suddenly appeared. This did not startle him in the least, as he thought back to the bath he and his wife had and how clothing had simply materialized onto them. Nienna handed him the goblet before seating herself across from him, her tearful eyes full of concern.

"I apologize for leaving my rooms; I know you warned against it," Arqueno began.

The gray-clad Valië said nothing, only continued to watch him. This unsettled him almost as much as what had just occurred, so he resorted to taking a few more sips of the water to calm himself and bide some time. His stomach threatened another upheaval with a gurgling menace.

"I could not rest," he resumed after a few minutes. "My mind was racing with many thoughts."

"Thoughts that you have yet to share with your wife," Nienna said softly. "How can you look upon the Noldor with disdain in regards to their silent dealings when you have so many secrets of your own?"

Ashamed, Arqueno did not lift his gaze.

"I fear she may reject me if she learns what I hold deep inside of my heart," he said after a very long pause. "I bear no love for those accursed people or their fell deeds."

"Yet even that is beginning to change, is it not?" the Valië probed.

"This is true. My feelings towards Nolwi's daughters have begun to take a different turn than their usual wont," Arqueno confirmed.

"And is this of your own counsel, or has there been a catalyst?" the Lady furthered. "You have nurtured your hate of the Fëanorians for many an Age; why is it changing? Surely

your wife's incessant lament for what she did to her daughters has not suddenly changed your views?"

"She is not incessant…she simply dwells on what occurred and what she did not do…" Arqueno said suddenly. "She wishes she had changed her actions!"

"And so for all these long years you had to listen to this over and over again; did you not tire? Did you not attempt to seek a way to end her turmoil?"

Arqueno placed the goblet onto the table with some force.

"I love my wife; I would do anything for her…" he said heatedly.

Nienna smiled.

"I am well aware of what you have done to marry her. Your love for her, and hers for you, is not doubted. Yet there is concern that your secrets will be the bane of your marriage. What happened tonight was not by chance; it was meant to be. Nothing has been without cause or meaning. Your tale has only just begun.

"When Lainanu first came to Valinor he only sought news of his son. His wife Sídhwen, he later learned, is in Lórien. He refuses to see her, believing she will want nothing to do with him. Though he has released her from their marriage in the manner of their people, she is not aware of this—the shock of her son's fate haunts her yet. Lainanu is too proud to confront her. And so they remain apart, he too proud to speak to her, and she too wounded to speak at all."

Arqueno's eyes narrowed. Nienna had stirred something within him.

" '_Nothing has been without cause or meaning'_…was Lainanu the sentinel Manwë sent to me?"

The Valië sat back in her chair, clasping her hands together as if in prayer. She studied the Teler intently for a few minutes before responding.

"When Lainanu came to us, Inwë had just arrived with the news of your plea. Manwë had been summoned to determine the Laiquendi's circumstance, and so we now had two cases to review. Long were the arguments, and troubled were the discussions. It took nearly a month to determine what to do. It was my thought to combine both your case and Lainanu's case together. Here was a man wrought with the same sort of grief that your wife was facing. He had already been through the worst of it, and therefore was in a unique position to assist you. I was also worried he would give up the will to live. His story truly touched me…and so he was sent to you."

Arqueno listened to each word carefully. It was very interesting indeed that his groundskeeper was in a position so similar to that of him and his wife. He remembered when Manwë's sentinel arrived and how the herald sized him up as an eagle would its prey, something Lainanu did when hunting. And when the Teler had said he would give up the gift of children, the sentinel had been taken aback. Now it made sense! Arqueno had thought it odd, that a Maiarian sentinel of the Lord of the West would show such emotion.

Lainanu had arrived at the Teler's house, asking for work. a fortnight after Arqueno had secured the Valar's approval to wed Nolwi. How convenient that the Laiquendë knew the way to Mandos and that he shared his tale of woe with Arqueno and Nolwi on the night they set out.

"So you knew of our arrival? You planned for Vanië to arrive with the journal as well? Is everyone conspiring against me for doubting the innocence of Vanimë and Vanië? Is there nothing that I have done that is not of my own doing?" Arqueno countered, somewhat irate that everything seemed to have been pre-planned.

Nienna laughed softly, shaking her head.

"And you still remain suspicious of everything! We knew of your travelling here from Olwë's message; did you forget that you acquired his blessing prior to setting out on your journey? As for the journal, none of us knew it would arrive, not even Manwë. Of the Valar, he is most aware of Eru's plans, yet there are things that remain hidden even from him. What I have learned from caring for the wounded spirits is that the children of Eru are always full of surprises. Just when I think I have seen it all, something new emerges."

The Teler did not know how to respond, so he remained silent. The Valië rose then and beckoned him to follow her. She led him out of the chambers and back to his rooms.

Nienna stopped at the door. "Rest well, Arqueno," she said before leaving him.

Once inside, Arqueno was careful not to make any sound, so as not to disturb Nolwi, who still lay resting in bed. Quietly he tiptoed into the bathing room and sat on the edge of a tub, trying to calm himself down. He could not rid himself of the chill that had stolen over him since the image of Cugur first entered his mind. His stomach threatened to purge itself of more acidic contents while his breathing came and went in erratic patterns. So he sat there, gray eyes closed, tears streaming down his face, until his hands and buttocks became numb and finally his stomach ceased its restlessness.

One glance at the mirror revealed a very pale reflection that still trembled. Next to each of the two tubs were two flat crystal channels extending from the obsidian wall: one carried warm water, the other cold. Arqueno managed to steady his hands long enough to collect warm water in his cupped palms and wash his face. Satisfied, he wiped his face and hands dry before returning to lie next to his wife.

Rest did not return easily to him. Behind closed eyes Arqueno envisioned a young boy with the eyes and voice of a dove, seated in a hut and wearing a bear tooth necklace.

Then Lainanu appeared, gruffly ordering his son to accompany him on a hunting trip. The child hid behind his mother for protection. The boy resisted, but the father became stern, lecturing his child about the qualities of men. The child gathered his hunting gear, and before they embarked, gave each of his parents a tight embrace. As father and son set out, the child's demeanor changed. There was a look of pacification, of submission, and as he took his father's hand there was an almost apologetic look, one of pity. It was the look of fatal love. This was the look that would haunt Lainanu forevermore.

Was this what happened between Nolwi and her daughters? Had Vanimë and Vanië allowed themselves to be taken to Middle-earth willingly, to show their mother how weak she was? Had they voluntarily sacrificed themselves so that their mother could find her own peace? Did they become the parent and Nolwi the child, as it seemed had happened with Cugur and Lainanu? Arqueno's mind pondered this even as he rested.

Hours passed fitfully before Arqueno eventually entered the elven dream-state of rest. His thoughts revolved around Cugur and then Vanimë and Vanië until everything blurred, and he felt himself drift into rest, welcoming the sweet release.

...

Nolwi began to stir as soon as her husband slipped into rest. She had not rested well; her dreams were troubled. She first dreamt of her two daughters on that fateful day of the Kinslaying, groveling on their knees for her to take them with her rather than leave them with their sire. She watched herself as she stood there on the dock, Caranthir dragging her children away from her. And the looks they gave her, they were the most painful of all the memory. Such faces full of anguish and sadness.

But the worst was the look of hurt and horror that Vanimë gave her. The young Elf knew that she and her sister had been betrayed. When Nolwi tried to meet her gaze, she pointedly turned her face.

Into her mind came her daughter's voice, dripping with contempt as it had on that day:

"So you choose to be a coward, choose to give us up to our father and his kin, to a fate undoubtedly full of malice and evil? What have we done to you to deserve such treatment! I will never forgive you!"

Even now, as the words from ancient days echoed in her mind, Nolwi still felt the same chill, the same loss of control and utter despair that she had on that terrible day. Sitting up in bed with her knees drawn to her chest, she buried her head in her arms. The same shame of old crept back into her.

And after that dream she had had another. This one was most puzzling to her. There was a peaceful forest, one she had never seen in Valinor. The trees were taller and wilder looking; the animals were more feral. There was a small village of huts scattered on the ground in the midst of a large clearing. The huts were made of wood, and they had thatched roofs.

Nolwi found herself in one of the huts. There was a small child with a curious bear tooth necklace around his neck. He was playing quietly by himself in a corner of the hut while his mother busied herself with a pot over the fire, every now and then gazing lovingly at her child. Then the voice of a man—apparently the boy's father, broke through the silence.

"Cugur, you are going hunting with me now! I will not tolerate any boy of mine going soft! We are men, not damsels to be hiding away in huts!"

Then the child turned, and Nolwi's heart jumped. He had the innocence of a dove. His dark eyes were soft and warm, and his face shone with naiveté. He dropped the toys he was playing with but did not meet his father's gaze, instead hiding behind his mother as his father continued to rage. Only the father's dark eyes could be seen, for he wore a mask, but they shone with a fierce light. Nolwi could not shake the feeling that she had seen those eyes before, but where, she did not know.

This only served to further enrage the father. He grabbed the boy's arrows and bow from a corner with one hand, and with the other he pulled his son away from the woman, who now was crying to her husband to let their child go.

But the man leered at his wife until she cowered by her cooking pot; the son reluctantly left her side. He wordlessly took the weapons his father had handed him and strapped them across his back, then hugged his mother tenderly. The father let them weep for a few minutes before beckoning Cugur to him. And then it happened.

Cugur turned and gazed upon his mother, waving farewell to her. His eyes bored right into Nolwi, who was behind the woman, as if he knew she was there. Within the blink of an eye Cugur's face was replaced with Vanimë's, and when Nolwi looked again, the entire scene had vanished.

She had never seen that child before. In fact she had never been to that village. It seemed to her that it was not of Valinor; could it be from Middle-earth? But she had never been there, so how could she dream of people and places she had not encountered before? And why had the boy's face changed into Vanimë's? Was this what became of Vanimë? Did she perish in Middle-earth, and now her soul and spirit were reborn into this boy?

Nolwi had heard of the dead souls who had been reincarnated into others' bodies, had heard that their new lives were spent undoing past wrongs and seeking revenge. Was this what awaited her in Lórien, her daughter living anew in another body, come to avenge everything Nolwi had done (or not done)? She would know soon enough, once she reached that realm.

Nolwi lifted her golden head, closing her eyes tightly to seal the bad dream inside her mind. When she opened her eyes again, nothing filled her sight but the room she was sharing with her husband in Mandos. Arqueno was still resting next to her. She gazed awhile at his unconscious form, watching the light cause his silver hair to shine. She loved this man with her whole being; she would do anything for him.

"Would you really do anything for him?"

It was Cugur, his voice penetrating her mind.

"Yes, yes I would…" Nolwi whispered, voice quaking with fear.

"Then why do you not tell him what you have buried deep within your heart, the secrets you have kept from him since the day of your wedding? Those thoughts have grown more treacherous with the passing years, have they not? They have poisoned your marriage, causing a great silent schism to grow between you and your husband. You have become like Caranthir to Arqueno—"

Nolwi screamed at those last words, unable to bear the whispering voice anymore. When she looked up, she saw Cugur, fading away slowly into Vanimë. This image lasted only a few moments. Nolwi reached out shaking fingers to touch her daughter, but the younger Elf dissipated into smoke, and her image was replaced with that of Caranthir.

Nolwi shuddered and fell onto her back, desperately trying to shrink away from him. His cold eyes looked upon her with their usual disgust. His voice came out as chilled as his gaze.

"You did not have the courage to stand up to me. You left your daughters to me and then wept in your weakness. You did not even attempt to stop me! For all your weaknesses you failed to realize that this one thing—the loss of your daughters—was your own doing! What a wretched, pathetic mother you are!"

Nolwi cringed away in terror. Even when confronted with a mere shadow of her former husband, the old fear returned anew.

Yet the image continued its onslaught:

"For all your hatred of the Fëanorians, you are like them! You keep secrets in the dark just as I did; like me, you harbor hatred!"

But Nolwi had had enough. She gathered herself before launching into a fury at the ghost of her first husband.

"I am not like the accursed Fëanorians, and I will never be! If I harbor secrets and hatred it is because I have dwelt long enough in your shadow to become afraid of trusting my heart. I have always loved my daughters, but I admit that I wronged them greatly. I erred because I feared I did not have the courage to protect them; I feared my own weaknesses," Nolwi cried, surprised at the force with which her words came out. "And this man, " she pointed at Arqueno's resting form, "who loved me and who took me broken and who attempts to mend me, I have pushed away due to fear, but no more. I cannot afford to have this marriage wrecked by my own folly. I will no longer be haunted by the past. What is done is done; I need to learn and grow."

She now stood a few feet away from Caranthir's image, which glared at her. Nolwi took a hesitant step towards him, then another and another until they were only inches apart.

"I have loved you, Caranthir, despite what you have done to me. And I was ashamed to admit that I still loved you even after we were separated in Alqualondë. There is no shame in love so long as it does not lead to evil. This I am beginning to realize. But how can I love a man who does not love me, who is dead to me? And so I release myself from this bond of love and guilt. I will hold on to the goodness that came to me from our union: my two daughters, whom I love more than this world itself. Farewell, Morifinwë, you have been a silent sentinel to my dark dreams, but no longer! Farewell forever!"


	8. Breaking the Silence

**DISCLAIMER: **Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Many thanks to my beta, Crackers, for her relentless patience as she assists me with this. My sincerest apologies for the delay, and my utmost gratitude for your patience. Please review so I may grow from your feedback!

**Breaking the Silence**

Lainanu stirred in his sleep, eyes slowly fluttering open. His vision was hazy, but he was able to discern a gray figure standing over him. With a few more blinks he could see clearly. Nienna stood near the head of his bed, eyes shining as she studied him intently.

"_Mára aurë__, herinya_ (good morning, my lady)," Lainanu said, quickly reaching for his robe before rising from his bed.

"_Mára aurë_," the Valië responded. "I imagine your dreams were troubled?"

The Laiquendu sighed, running his hand through his hair.

"This was not how I envisioned Nolwi and Arqueno to find out," he said. "I have come to love them, and now I feel like a traitor. When Lord Manwë sent me to tell Arqueno—I was unrecognizable to him in the garb of the Lord's messenger—that his plea had been accepted, I sensed the man's desperation and willingness to do anything to win Nolwi. Arqueno was so willing to have Nolwi that he gave up the gift of children when asked for an exchange. Something pulled me toward him, and so after meeting him I presented myself as a prospective groundskeeper.

"After he and Nolwi were married, the weight of their burdens dragged them apart. Night after night I struggled to come up with a way to gain their trust, but the rift between them grew even wider. If I approached one, the other would think that the first was indicating superiority. I watched as their faith in themselves, and in their marriage, began to fade. My heart broke into a thousand pieces.

"How am I not a traitor to them, knowing everything about them and not revealing my true purpose?"

Nienna was silent for a few minutes.

"How then did you imagine them to understand your true objective?" she asked.

Lainanu sighed in frustration before replying:

"I do not know; but not in this manner. It is too deceitful for me. You do not know how many times I came close to confessing everything to them: that I was sent to observe their slow marital decay and try to save their union at the last moment. Yet their pain was too much for me, their anger too strong—I feared my confession would drive them further apart because they already distrusted one another.

"It was their pride that troubled me the most: Arqueno's belief that only the loss of Alqualondë mattered, and Nolwi's unwillingness to admit and to accept that it was her own weakness that brought about her daughters' ruin despite her love for them. Their pride drained my hope that their future together would be pleasant. I could not understand their demeanor at first, but I know why now…"

Nienna placed her hands on either side of the Laiquendu's face and raised his head until his amber eyes met her gaze.

"What did you discover?" she inquired.

"That Valinor is truly a place of comfort; so how are its inhabitants to know the troubles of the world beyond their own? They are like children in their knowledge of calamities—how are they expected to know anything but the peace found here? The one incident of turmoil here was that of Alqualondë—this is all the Elves of Valinor truly comprehend of pain. They were all children when that occurred, so their reactions to it reflect that."

The Valië remained silent as Lainanu continued:

"Children can only react selfishly when injured: the world must revolve around

their pain, their pain is the only hurt that matters, and no injury is worse than theirs. This happens because one is too sheltered, secured, and comforted. Valinor is just such a haven of safety and contentment.

"It has taken me some time to realize this truth. This is why I feel traitorous—I have robbed Arqueno and Nolwi of their privacy and security without their knowing. I have cheated their child-like innocence," he finished.

Nienna smiled softly.

"You are quite right. Compared to what the Elves of Middle-earth have endured, your Valinórean counterparts are like children. You said this yourself and have personally witnessed it. How, then, did you expect to win their trust?

"You were warned of the troubles that befell Arqueno and Nolwi; you agreed to help them of your own accord. You had to study them to know what shadows haunt their steps. Then, once they had no manner of resolving their problems without help, you became their guide, slowly revealing your own story and acquired wisdom. It could not be done any other way," the gray-clad Lady stated.

Lainanu blinked back the tears in his eyes.

"I know," he said, voice husky with emotion. "Yet I cannot help but feel that I deceived them. The fact that I kept secrets from them as they do to each other—which is what is driving them apart—is the greatest irony of all."

The Valië stared ahead, saying nothing, but letting her words pierce the man's mind:

"There was no other path than this to gain their trust. Had you made your purpose known to them from the beginning, they would have dismissed you without a moment's hesitation. Their denial that they had difficulties and needed help would have been too strong then. At times it is best to wait for strife to die down to distant whispers before attempting reconciliation.

"As you have said, Valinor has known but one calamity—that of its Darkening and Alqualondë's subsequent destruction. Its inhabitants have become very much accustomed to peace and security; therefore, their child-like innocence has caused them to brood.

"We were hoping for something that would help you with Nolwi and Arqueno; Vanimë's journal is the perfect catalyst. Though I appreciate your feelings of treachery and remorse, no one fully understands Eru's plan. Even my Lord Manwë cannot always perceive His designs. I trusted in my Lord when he ordered that you be sent to Arqueno and Nolwi, and now I begin to understand. You must remain with them and believe in yourself and in them. They are relying on you to be their rock."

Nienna rose from her chair, heading towards the door. Lainanu stopped her before she left his chambers.

"_Herinya_ (Lady) Nienna, do they know my true purpose?" he asked.

"Arqueno has been told. Do not be alarmed, for he does not bear ill will towards you," she replied, before fading into the shadows of the hall.

Lainanu closed the door, then washed up in the bathing room. He could not shake the eerie feeling of having had both Arqueno and Nolwi inside of his dreams. Their presence had not been his own will, but that of the Valar. The Powers had wanted the Teleri to feel his emotions so that the couple could better understand their own.

The experience had left Lainanu feeling very vulnerable as well, for the Teleri had witnessed his deepest memories, of events he tried to hide even from himself. But now there was no hiding; everything had been exposed, even the true nature of his presence in their home. No matter what excuse he tried to conjure, no word of his would do away with the overwhelming evidence against him. All he could do was to keep his faith and trust in the plan that Eru had already devised.

"It is hard to trust what you cannot yet see…" he sighed aloud, balling up the towel in his hands and throwing it into the furthest corner of his bathing room.

"Do not despair, Lainanu, you will find your way; you always have…" came Nienna's soft voice into his mind. "You were never one to let your anguish control you."

...

Arqueno awoke to the sound of running water coming from the bathing room. He could hear Nolwi as she moved about, preparing her bath. He allowed himself to lie in bed for a few more minutes, eyes still closed. The events of the previous night were all blurred in his mind now. Visions of a hut and an innocent, fearful child faded in and out of his thoughts. Then he would see Lainanu slaying a bear. The images plagued him, scenes from a terrible nightmare he could not be rid of.

He was not entirely certain any of it had truly happened. How could he have witnessed such things—if witness was even the term for the experience he underwent—without having ever been to Middle-earth, or even been in proximity to Lainanu himself at the time! Arqueno had the feeling that somehow he had been immersed into Lainanu's memory, and not by the Laiquendu's power.

When Arqueno finally opened his eyes, everything was quiet in the bathing room.

Nolwi was soaking in her bath, eyes closed. She could not rid herself of the vision of Cugur, nor the mournful look he gave her. In the Teler's mind's eye, Cugur would fade into Vanimë, and she into him. Lainanu would then materialize, sword dripping ruby blood, his child's head severed clean off his body. Vanimë would appear next, and Nolwi would find herself standing beside her, the hilt of a dagger embedded deep into her daughter's right flank. Over and over this image repeated itself. Nolwi felt numb to her core.

And what should she make of seeing her first husband? Nolwi had sensed him when she glimpsed that dark hallway—the one Nienna warned her against. Was he only a manifestation of her fears? Was he real? Was any of it real? Or was all this simply a part of being in Mandos? Nolwi did not know what to trust anymore.

A hand startled her out of her reverie.

"Oh, my sweet…I did not intend to disturb you so."

It was Arqueno, gray eyes looking over her with concern.

"You did startle me…I thought at first that you were…you were…" Nolwi trailed off. "I would not want you to know, you may think it folly."

Arqueno walked over to his own bath, allowing the towel he had tied around his waist to drop unceremoniously to the floor. He then eased himself into Nolwi's bathing tub, directly across from her. Her head was down, gaze lowered. He placed a hand under her chin, and with the other forced her head upwards so that their eyes met.

"What is folly is that you and I have managed to keep our marriage…" he whispered.

Nolwi's face began to quiver.

"Do you regret our union, then?" she stuttered.

Arqueno's eyes began to sting. And for the first time he let Nolwi see his tears, tears he shed in hiding, tears he shed out of fear and guilt for the secrets he kept from her.

"Oh, my darling Nolwi, you know that I have loved you from the moment that I first set eyes on you, so long ago in your father's house. Do you recall that day?" he whispered, stroking her face tenderly.

"It was a lovely evening…the sun was getting ready to set…the sky was painted in a soft golden hue. I had been swimming with the dolphins. I thought no one was around, so I swam in naught but my undergarments…and then you appeared. How embarrassing it was!" Nolwi recounted slowly, letting her mind wander again.

"To me, you seemed a goddess. I had always scoffed at those who spoke of love at first sight. And you know what is said, '_Be careful what you laugh at, for one day you may become the joke_'. And in that instant it all became true. Oh, you do not know the endless laughs I had to endure from my friends!"

"And then Caranthir appeared…."

Arqueno sighed.

"He was as smitten with you as I. Your innocence and naivety were what I admired, but Caranthir and I did not share the same reasoning. He coveted you only as if you were one of his prized gems; I wanted to share my soul with you. I tried to confront him, to claim you for myself—I could see that he desired you. Yet his pride and standing were no match for me….Had I known then what I know now, I would have slain him and gladly committed the first crime against our own kind!" he said. "What did you value in him that I do not have?"

Nolwi closed her eyes, biting her lips.

"I cannot tell you…you would think less of me!" she responded.

"Nolwi, we cannot afford to keep secrets from one another any longer. The truth must be told…even if it will hurt us…" Arqueno coaxed gently. "More importantly, how can the truth be any more painful than this schism of silence between us?"

"Some things are best left unsaid."

"Nolwi, you must trust me! I am willing to bare my entire soul to you and to recount all my deeds to save our marriage! How do you know that I have no secrets of my own, of equal or greater shame than yours?"

Nolwi opened her eyes.

"I gave the gift of children away when I begged to be wedded to you," Arqueno confessed. "I did it without thinking thoroughly. All I could think of was you, and how desperately I desired you. Have you never wondered why we have not been blessed?"

Nolwi felt herself grow cold.

"What…?" she stammered.

"I wanted to punish you for the hurt I suffered. All the time that you were wife to Caranthir, it was if my very breath had been stolen. And when I heard that you had borne him children, I felt my soul taken away also. My anguish lessened only slightly when I heard that they were daughters—at least his line would not proliferate! I wanted to show you when we wedded that you had erred," Arqueno told her. "Of all the matters I could have selected, I decided upon perhaps the one choice that hurts the most."

"I…I cannot believe this…" Nolwi whispered.

"What is not to believe? Do not underestimate the torment I underwent, the anguish that I suffered. Seeing you and Caranthir together tore me apart. So I bargained with Manwë not to give us children, so that I could hurt you as I had been hurt. I wanted you then so very much that I did not care what price I paid. Of course, now I realize that I have only hurt myself…and you…" Arqueno responded.

Nolwi was quiet as her husband's words fell like firebrands on her ears. She had never really considered that what he truly felt about her first husband and marriage could resemble anything more than disappointment and relief. She did not think Arqueno was even capable of such complex and deeply rooted emotions as those he now expressed. This was not to say she thought him a dull man—he was intelligent—but Nolwi imagined Arqueno to be of a more simple nature, less calculating, not likely to keep anything to himself.

"You do not understand…" she sighed.

Arqueno took her head in his hands, kissing her forehead gently.

"Help me to understand…help me to save us…" he implored, firmly yet tenderly.

Nolwi hesitated for several seconds. She thought back to her first marriage, when she resented how her husband never shared anything with her. Then when she married Arqueno, she recalled how though he had tried to gain closeness to her, she withdrew, in the same manner as Caranthir. She had watched as Arqueno himself began to retreat in reaction to her silence. And when she did want closeness, it was too late: they each had built fortresses around themselves.

Yet deep down, Nolwi knew that this was unhealthy, not only for their marriage, but for each of them individually, as well. The silence was causing a rift, and it was only a matter of time before the walls of the fortresses they had created around them would crumble, leaving nothing salvageable.

Arqueno watched Nolwi fade into herself and felt his heart plummet. He had shared something with her in hopes of coaxing her to do the same. He had known that his words would devastate her, but what did that compare to their lack of communication? Better to have the truth spoken than to keep it in the dark. He did not know how much longer he could sustain the dysfunction of this marriage.

As the minutes passed and Nolwi still said nothing, he felt his disappointment turn into anger. Just as he began to remove his hands from his wife, he felt her grasp onto them tightly. She looked broken, desperate, confused.

"The Noldor were so powerful and they knew many things," Nolwi began. "They were always crafting and building. I remember the first time I visited one of their cities. I was awestruck by everything I saw. They were proud of themselves and of everything they did. And when I returned home…it was so dull. Thatched huts on the beach! The only thing we did was to sing songs about the sea and how the sun glimmered on the waves! Everything we did was safe…But the Noldor were exciting. Even when they spoke, they argued and yelled and laughed all at the same time. We spoke too softly; we were always polite…I yearned for a sense of their power and pride…"

Nolwi spoke in short outbursts, not caring that her speech was ineloquent. She was baring her true emotions, just as she felt them. These were her raw feelings in their purest form, and it felt strange for her to put them into words after many an eon. She hated the way they sounded, but she continued:

"…I wanted a man of the Noldor…a tall, dark-haired man with whom I could have many adventures…and when you began to come around my home, I was put off because you were disrupting my plans and because I knew my parents wanted me to wed you. Mother tried to dissuade me from my silly dreams, as she called them. Yet every chance I got I went with my father to the Noldorin city. And then Caranthir saw me, and I was flattered that such a mighty prince as he had noticed me!"

Nolwi was weeping now, covering her face with her hands. She felt Arqueno place his arms around her and draw her to his chest. On she went:

"My father sensed my dissatisfaction, and on the eve of Caranthir's proposal, he told me to assess my dreams. He warned me against such a lofty goal. My mother was not happy; she felt I was being unfaithful to my people. But my mind was set. In the beginning I was very happy, distracted with all the beauty and mesmerized with the Noldorin traditions. But as the nature of life settled in, I found myself lost, unable to deal with Caranthir's outbursts and lack of feeling, and I became dissatisfied.

"I began to hate my husband, my children, and myself; I wanted to end my misery. So I made that fateful bargain on a dark and lonely night, cursing my family so that I could gain my freedom. Yet I only cursed myself…

"The curse exacted a heavy price on me, a price that I did not feel until later. Yes, I was finally free of Caranthir's tumultuous moods and suffocating hold on me, yet I had lost my daughters. I also lost myself. After dreaming of being wife to a Noldo, I felt broken, all my hopes dashed. I returned home in shame, unwilling to converse with anyone. Everyone saw me for what I was: a pitiful woman who had tried to endure life with a harsh husband. I felt like an exposed fool. So when your proposal came along, I took it as a hunted fish gives in to the dangled bait. I wanted the world to swallow me alive…"

Nolwi finally raised her head, tears streaming down her face.

"Do you now wish that our silence had remained unbroken?"


	9. Shreds of Secrecy

**DISCLAIMER: **Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Many thanks to my beta, Crackers, for her relentless patience as she assists me with this. My sincerest apologies for the delay, and my utmost gratitude for your patience. Please review so I may grow from your feedback!

**Shreds of Secrecy**

Arqueno remained quiet for a few moments, letting his wife's words settle. He had never imagined her to have been unhappy with the life of the Teleri. Whenever he glimpsed her at her parents' house before their marriage, he had only seen contentment.

But what were a few glimpses compared to an entire existence? He had not witnessed every minute of her life; how could he judge from the few opportunities he had had to see her? Can you truly assess a person by the smile displayed on her face?

"I love you, Arqueno…please do not think otherwise," Nolwi whispered, interrupting his thoughts. "Even though it seems that I took advantage of your proposal to distance myself from my quandary, I have come to truly love you. You must forgive me…if you can…"

Arqueno took her hands to his lips and kissed them tenderly.

"I love you too," he replied. "I wish we had spoken sooner, that we had not let all of our secrets build up to this point…"

Nolwi felt her heart turn to ice. "You…you want to absolve our marriage?" she cried.

Arqueno shook his head. "Never…"

Nolwi wiped her tears, then rose from the tub. She reached for a robe hanging nearby and wrapped herself in it.

"I need to clear my mind," she said. "I will return shortly."

She left the bathing room and made for the main chamber. She hurriedly dressed herself and wrung the excess water from her hair. Breathing erratically, Nolwi tried to contain herself until she was in the hallway. It was not until the door closed swiftly behind her that she sank to the floor in a heap, letting her sorrow envelop her.

...

Mandos and Vairë sat on their thrones while Nienna stood motionless against the obsidian wall. The three Valar seemed statue-like in their immobility and silence; only their glowing eyes gave them any semblance of life. The only sound in the court was the droplets of water bubbling in the pristine fountain that stood directly between them.

Mandos watched as each silver droplet sailed through the air and landed with a splatter against the marble floor. At times the light filtered through the silver beads, and a little rainbow would appear.

Though the trio appeared silent, they were busy communicating with each other directly within their minds, as was their habit.

"So, they have finally spoken to each other," Mandos stated mentally to the ladies present in his court. "They have confessed their secrets at last."

"So it would appear," Vairë commented.

"Do you think anything else remains hidden?" Mandos ventured.

Nienna shook her head ever so slightly.

"Nay, my brother, everything that they concealed from one another has been exposed," she confirmed.

Mandos' head inclined to indicate satisfaction. "Does Lainanu know that they have broken their silence?" he inquired.

Vairë shot an inquisitive look at her husband. "Why is that any of his concern? He has performed his duty," she asked.

"Lainanu knows that I told Arqueno of his true reason for being in the Teler's home," Nienna said. "It seemed only fair that the Teler know."

Mandos exhibited one of his rare smiles. "Sister: ever the one full of pity for the children of Eru," he said.

"What is of true importance now is what they decide to do. Arqueno and Nolwi have both acted selfishly. Can they overcome what was hidden for so long?" Vairë said.

"My dear, your hands will weave that answer for us in Time," Mandos responded, his tone somewhat sarcastic.

Vairë rolled her eyes affectionately at her spouse. "You can be so spirited at times, my lord," she jested, leaning towards him for a kiss.

They both heard Nienna's exasperated sigh.

"While it is refreshing to see the softer and lighter side of you, brother, we must keep our attention focused on the matter currently at hand," she said curtly.

Mandos resumed his usual serene stare, with a forced scowl directed at his sister. Vairë tried to stifle her smile, but her amusement issued forth like a soft bubbling.

"If you continue in this manner, you will lose your reputation for stoicism. Taniquetil will have fresh rumors to contemplate, and _Aran_ Manwë might have to investigate unexpectedly," Nienna warned, breaking into laughter herself, an occurrence as rare as her brother's smile. "Do you recall the controversy over the fountain?"

Mandos was staring at his sister, eyes slanted.

"If I may refresh your memory, its purpose was thought to be of a more sensual nature between my Lord and Lady of the court—" Nienna continued, clearly enjoying herself now.

"Is that why you spend much of your time here rather than at your own abode, feeding rumors to Taniquetil about my Halls?" Mandos retorted, his tone becoming suspicious in a playful manner.

Nienna only smiled.

"Very well," Vairë said, clearing her throat, "let us return to the matter at hand."

"Yes, let us," Mandos agreed, throwing one final, menacing glance at his sister.

"I strongly believe that they should journey to Lórien," Nienna stated.

"They do need to heal," Vairë agreed.

"Celebrían is there, and she is a skilled healer," Mandos consented. "Many of our own charges who are strong enough seek reprieve there."

"There is also the matter of the seeing-mirror. Nolwi wishes to understand Vanimë's life in full," Vairë added.

"There are also two more reasons…" Nienna said, closing her eyes.

Mandos and Vairë remained quiet for a few moments after reading her thoughts.

"You think this is wise?" Mandos questioned.

"She was in a similar position to Nolwi; she may be of some comfort to her now. And she resides there in Lórien. I have already sent word to her, and received a warm response," Nienna replied passionately. "It cannot do any harm for Nolwi to see her."

Vairë nodded her head in consent. "Your argument is valid, Nienna."

"Does Nolwi know of her presence there?" Mandos said.

"I do not think so," Nienna answered.

"Then I also concur with this plan. It is quite wise," Mandos stated.

"Generous words from you, my Lord," Nienna replied with a bantering bow.

"Why the sudden mirth?" Vairë asked, eyebrows raised in suspicion. "Usually I have to pester a smile from either one of you."

"Perhaps we are celebrating the fact that Arqueno and Nolwi have broken their silence," Nienna answered. "Seldom do we have glad tidings here…"

Vairë smiled as the conversation came to its end. Her hands again began to weave the Tale of the World, and as she worked, a thought came into her mind: "Seldom has the story of the House of Fëanor borne any glad tidings in Valinor; perhaps this is the only exception. May its end be a happy one for all!"

...

Nolwi finally quelled her breathing to a less erratic rhythm. Her tears soaked the front of her dress, but she did not care. For almost half an hour, she had not left the spot where she had sunk to the hallway floor in a heap.

The tears had erupted from her suddenly, like hot lava, and she did not have the willpower to stop them. The intense crying left her feeling drained but surprisingly light. She had not wept to that extent in so long; she did not think it was possible to have so many tears. The last time she had wept in such a manner was when she left her daughters—this time, though, she would truly break the bond between herself and Morifinwë.

Slowly, Nolwi rose to her feet and headed towards the corridor that had been haunting her since her arrival to Mandos. The familiar feeling of unease from eons before seeped into her as if it had never left. She felt her body quiver, and her hands began to shake.

But she continued on, forcing herself to take step after step towards the shadow of the targeted passage. Finally, when she was engulfed by that shadow, and the faint whispers emanating from the hallway surrounded her, she stopped.

Mustering all of the courage she had, Nolwi glared down the corridor towards the only door she could see. A few shimmering figures flitted before it, and she realized with a jolt that they were Maiarin guards, their sole responsibility being to keep the door eternally locked. The whispers became louder, and Nolwi realized that the guards were holding her back. Her uneasiness grew.

This was the moment she had been preparing for, the moment she had regretted the day she abandoned her daughters so many eons ago. This one task was the final thread that would separate her from her past and liberate her future. Finally, Nolwi raised her head, stared intently at the door and, imagining her former husband's face, began to speak to him, soft voice wrought with emotion:

"Morifinwë, I feel your presence here. For many eons I have blamed you for the loss of my daughters and the hardships that I have faced. I realize now that the majority of the suffering I faced was of my own making. Had I not sought a false dream without realizing its full cost, I would not be where I am now.

"Yet, I also would not have had the opportunity to see the world. My life with you was not entirely unhappy. Perhaps the fault lies in that I did not understand you completely, or that I did not have the necessary patience. Your mother did counsel me, yet I ignored her. Not for naught is she called Nerdanel the Wise…"

Unbeknownst to Nolwi, Arqueno had followed her. He stood hidden from her sight, yet every word she uttered he could clearly hear.

"I did love you, Morifinwë. I loved your pride and your strength. I know that you loved me, as well. But you became lost in your father's cause, and that is where I failed. I should have endured at whatever cost to try and save you. Yet my dream began to fall apart, and I realized my own weaknesses and folly. And perhaps then you realized that I was not what you needed in a wife…

"If I had not been caught up in my fantasy of marrying a Noldo, if I had been satisfied with the life of a Teler in all its perceived simplicity, I would have spared myself so much grief yet missed out on the adventures I had. I realize that I was not strong enough to be your wife, a wife of a Fëanorian.

"After I abandoned my daughters to you at Alqualondë, I returned home. It was some time before I remarried. My husband, Arqueno, is a fine Teler. I betrayed him by keeping secrets from him—so it seems I was a bit Noldorin in that way! Yet it appears that we both hid much from one another.

"I have learned to trust my husband now. We both paid steep prices to be with one another, and I refuse to let my past define my future. For the mistakes I have made, I pray to Eru to forgive me—especially for leaving my daughters. I pray that you forgive me, too, Morifinwë, for not being a better wife to you. And I forgive you for all that you did. I thought there was shame in loving you, in loving the wonderful memories that we had, but I realize now that there is no shame in love.

"But I cannot remain caught between two worlds, one that drags me down, while the other strives to raise me. Both are separate, but significantly tied together. So, I release myself from this bond of guilt and anger, that joins me to you but never liberates me…_Nam__á__rië _Morifinwë!"

...

Arqueno backed away as quietly as he could, hiding around a corner, letting Nolwi pass without seeing him. He gazed down the hallway where Nolwi had been, trying to see past the guards and into the dark room they watched over, the room that held his wife's past and future.

But he could see nothing save for the sentries who kept unremitting watch over their charges, charges who were bound to stay in that Hall until Eru commanded Mandos otherwise. After a few minutes Arqueno turned his back to that accursed corridor and set off towards his chambers. He was startled when the shadows a little way ahead of him shifted.

"My Lord…" Arqueno whispered, falling onto his knees.

Nolwi heard the sound of her husband's voice, and turning back, she realized that he had followed her and overheard her speech to Morifinwë. She hid herself from Arqueno's sight as he had done to her and proceeded to listen to the exchange between her husband and the Vala Mandos.

Mandos motioned for the Teler to rise to his feet. "So you came here, even though Nienna asked you not to on the eve of your arrival," he stated.

"I followed my wife here…" replied the Elf.

"Do you regret your decision?"

"What decision?"

Mandos' eyes glittered at the silver-haired Elf.

"Pray, tell me," replied the Vala. "Do you regret championing yourself for her, only to inherit a soul so torn and withered that you find yourself drowning in her sorrow? What about the endless time spent to gain any of her warmth back, if only a forlorn smile, only to have all your efforts tossed carelessly back in your face?"

Nolwi stifled a gasp, covering her mouth with both hands, heart pounding wildly. She felt the manner in which Mandos spoke was insulting—what hit her the hardest was the realization that she had been rather cold and uncaring towards Arqueno. She feared his response, and awaited it with bated breath.

"My only regret is that I did not wed her first…" Arqueno said.

"Do you think she regrets her first marriage?"

"Not entirely. I think she regrets her old fanciful dreams, that she was not stronger to resist their allure. She regrets what she did—or what she did not do—and that she cannot reverse her mistakes. She laments that she may not get the chance to repent of her sins."

Nolwi closed her eyes, hot tears streaming down her face.

Mandos was quiet for several moments. "Do you think she deserves another chance

to atone for her faults?" he asked.

Arqueno did not reply immediately. He was wary of this line of questioning. It was all too reminiscent of a time when the Valar had assessed him in a similar fashion, sending Lainanu, disguised as their emissary. The Teler felt that indeed the world was circular, that every action and word was intertwined with the past, and that the future flowed from decisions made, or deeds left forever undone.

Nolwi felt a wave of nausea overcome her as she prayed fervently to Eru. Arqueno's silence frightened her. What if he truly believed she was as guilty as the Kinslayers for leaving Vanimë and Vanië? Had she not killed them in doing so?

"Anyone, if presented with the opportunity to correct errors committed, or to rectify deeds omitted, should be so lucky to have that blessing-repentance," Arqueno finally replied. "That is how evil can be erased, the world made a better place, and a small measure of peace attained."

"Is Nolwi evil?"

This question hit him like a blast of cold air; it caused Arqueno's skin to become covered with tiny goosebumps. He began to shake and shiver; he found he could not stop himself from trembling. Mandos' abode felt suddenly very grim and full of even more despair.

Meanwhile, Nolwi felt her legs grow numb.

"Do I scare you, Elf?" Mandos whispered in a tone not altogether comforting. "Do my questions make you uncomfortable? Does my abode instill fear within you?"

Arqueno did not answer, trying to swallow his fright.

"I am the Lord and Keeper of the Dead. I am forced to ask these questions not because I am cold-hearted, but rather because I must. It is not easy to look into the hearts and minds of those in my guardianship and judge if they should be released or not. The horrors I have perceived are too grievous for most to bear. Even I at times cannot sustain the terrors I have the privilege to ascertain. My stoic demeanor allows me to maintain my duty and keep a clear mind when passing judgment.

"Now Arqueno, tell me, is your beloved wife Nolwi evil?" Mandos said.

Arqueno replied without hesitation, "She is not evil. She has never been evil. She is afraid; she needs someone to understand and nurture her."

"Every soul has been given a specific tolerance for horrors, just as my own is very great," said Mandos, nodding in agreement with the Elf. "Some are able to carry on without reliance on another. Others do not fare so well and need someone stronger to carry them through. Still others rely on one another, and though they may be filled with dread individually, together they are able to master their fears and live their lives. Only Eru truly knows what each of his Children is capable of managing."

"And what of yourself; are you evil?"

"Nolwi's marriage to Morifinwë devastated me, the events of Alqualondë scarred me. My anger is because of the hurt from those two events; it does not make me evil," the Teler responded.

"And you hold to the belief that all of the Fëanorians are evil, that they can never be absolved of their sins?" Mandos pressed.

"We cannot control our parentage, but we can control our own actions. I believe that Vanimë and Vanië are two shining examples of that," Arqueno replied confidently.

"The true question is," he continued, "what is evil? Convictions in and of themselves are not evil. An entire scenario must be carefully assessed before arriving at such a grave conclusion. The true definition of evil is the force of terror and fear, of deeds unspeakable that betray the foundations laid down by the One true Lord of all of Arda—Eru. Only He is the true judge of what is evil and what is not. Only He can decide who can be pardoned and who cannot. And if He has imparted such knowledge to any of the Valar or those who are Wise, then who am I to pass such judgment and hold myself above all others?"

Mandos half-smiled then, and nodded as if in satisfaction. He raised his pale right hand, and both Nolwi and Arqueno found themselves suddenly standing side by side in the great throne room. Mandos was now seated next to Vairë, and Nienna stood between them in the shadows, her face hidden, except her eyes, which glittered to match those of Mandos and Vairë.

"Still you cling to a small shred of secrecy…why?" Mandos began.

Nienna stirred slightly, a troubled look on her face.

"Both of you spied on each other just now to hear the last remaining secrets that you could not bear to divulge," Mandos continued.

"It is difficult to break old habits," Arqueno said.

Nolwi nodded in agreement.

"Indeed it is. So what will your path now be? Unified, or divergent as before?" Mandos asked.

"Unified," Nolwi and Arqueno replied simultaneously.

"Then your work is done," Vairë said, addressing someone behind the couple.

Turning, the Teleri saw Lainanu standing with an anxious look on his face. His amber gaze immediately became downcast as their silver eyes directed onto him.

"What do you mean?" Nolwi asked.

"I was sent by the Valar to find a way to end the rift between you. They felt that I was in a unique position to assist you because of my past," the Laiquendë replied. "Not even Arqueno knew. You do not know how troubled I felt, how much like a traitor. Please, I beg your pardon, your forgiveness, for not being truthful."

Arqueno was silent, intending to spare the man's embarrassment, but it was Nolwi who spoke first, surprising all who stood in the hall with her confidence and insight:

"Nay, Lainanu, it was the only way. I realize this now. How else could your task have been accomplished? Had you told my husband and me the true nature of your duty, we would have had you dismissed immediately from our home."

Lainanu stood stunned for a few moments. Nolwi's words echoed Nienna's of earlier. Even as the notion entered his mind, Nienna's voice penetrated his thoughts:

"Do not be alarmed; she is unaware of the conversation we had. Nolwi's gift is to read her own heart, and this she does well when not burdened with her troubles."

"You…will…take me back?" Lainanu said, choking on every word, fighting back the hot tears he felt would spill.

Nolwi smiled, her eyes also shining with tears. "We do need a groundskeeper…and someone to take us to Lórien, is that not right, my dear?" she said, smiling at her husband.

Arqueno nodded in response.

The three Valar exchanged nods. The eon-long frost between Arqueno and Nolwi was melting, and the warmth of spring approached. They were ready for the next step in their journey together.


	10. The End's Beginning

**Disclaimer/Author's Note: **My sincerest apologies for the great delay in publishing this! All I can say is life has me in its cruel grips! Of course, anything recognizable is Tolkien's. I have referenced two sites here, _Council of Elrond_, and _LOTR Wikia_. Many thanks to my great beta Crackers for her patience with me! Without further ado, I present chapter ten to you! Reviews greatly appreciated!

**The End's Beginning**

"So, on to Lord Irmo's gardens of Lórien you venture now?" Mandos said.

The Telerin couple nodded their heads simultaneously. The three Valar, seated on their thrones, smiled down upon the Elves, pleased that they were about to embark on the rest of their journey.

"Does it not feel better now that all of you have aired your secrets? Nolwi, you were afraid Arqueno would reject you for having a lofty dream that you could not uphold. Arqueno feared you would desert him for his own reservations about your past. And Lainanu was frightened you would reject him once you knew he was our emissary," Nienna stated. "Healing cannot begin until the true reality of matters is accepted, and I think that this crucial first step has been taken."

"I am relieved that I am no longer an actor in a play, that my true work is known. It was so difficult keeping up the ruse of groundskeeper," Lainanu said.

Nolwi began to chuckle. Arqueno looked at her, puzzled.

"Why the sudden mirth?" he queried.

"All my time with the Noldor, I should have learned that secrets deeply buried for some time erupt viciously in the end. The Noldor are a very passionate people, as quick-tempered as they are merry. When they finally make their thoughts known, no one is spared. Suppressed secrets are akin to an inactive volcano, smoldering for many centuries, until one day all the circumstances are perfect—and it explodes into a rain of molten lava and ashes. Should anyone be in the path of this anger, Eru have mercy! For anger that is latent for a lengthy period scorches as much as molten lava. I now know that this unhealthy attribute is true of any person," she said. "The relief of having my secrets exposed is priceless and very welcome!"

Arqueno felt himself tense for a moment when he heard his wife refer to the Noldor, yet as his eyes met the gaze of Nienna, he relaxed.

"It is wonderful to have spoken of everything we buried," Arqueno affirmed. "Though I suppose it is to be expected that the healing process will take time."

Nienna nodded.

"It is a common misconception that any problems that suddenly materialize have arrived without incident. However, nothing occurs overnight. Even Eru did not create the World that quickly! What you must remember now is that just as time gave your secrets their darkness, time will help you unravel your issues," she advised.

"It may seem that to turn away and ignore the situation is the easier and saner choice, but it is not," Lainanu said. "I have gone down that path against my better judgment and every day I rue my decision. Your greatest test of strength and faith is in how you reclaim your ground after you have fallen—walking away from your tragedies does not achieve that. Your life is based on how you rise into the light after you have descended into darkness."

The Valar were silent. Only Vairë's rapidly weaving fingers made any sound.

"I shall be honest with you," Mandos said, looking at his wife for agreement. "When we first received word of your calamities, my wife and I did not think that you would be able to endure all your secrets. It was Nienna who believed that your rift could be mended. She has pitied your cause in such a manner I feared it would change her. When you appeared in my court a fortnight ago, I was quite skeptical. However, you have both truly proven yourselves more resilient than I thought."

Nolwi and Arqueno stared at each other at the mention of their stay being a fortnight. They had not felt the time pass by so quickly! It seemed to them that merely several days had gone by, not a fortnight! Had it truly been that long?

Vairë smiled softly at the bewildered couple. "Time here flows differently than in other areas of the World. Those who arrive in the Halls come to be judged, and my Lord does not give out his judgments lightly. He prefers to take counsel with himself before he sentences souls. So it was with your arrival as well—we had to ensure adequate time had passed before your sentence was given. Though you came not as traditional souls that have perished, but on behalf of someone you assumed had perished, the same tenets applied."

Lainanu moved from behind the Telerin couple to a spot facing them. Mandos and Vairë flanked him on either side. When he spoke, his eyes and voice were soft.

"The most important lesson to remember," he said, "is that of time. Each of you have come into your marriage with different emotional burdens that you did not resolve together, until now. Rather, you each nurtured your own secrets within yourselves, brooding, feeding your wounds and prejudices silently. Likewise, your healing will take an equal amount of time, if not longer. You must learn anew to trust completely and to forgive one another. You will begin your marriage afresh, if you are sincere about staying together, when you rebuild one another."

Arqueno took Nolwi's right hand, pressing his lips against her skin softly. He then sank onto his knees, all the while still holding onto her hand. His gray eyes met hers as he looked up from his position on the marble floor.

"Nolwi, I know how important it is to you to discover the remainder of Vanimë's tale. I promise that I will accompany you to the gardens of Lórien where you may uncover the truth. Then, I hope we may stay there some time to cleanse ourselves of the darkness that we both allowed to engulf us. This matter is as important to me as Vanimë's tale," Arqueno said passionately.

Nolwi smiled down at her husband, nodding fervently as grateful tears flowed freely down her face. She responded in kind, saying: "I promise to be wholly open and honest with you, and to hold dear what you value."

"Your time here in my halls has come to its closure," Mandos said solemnly, and from his manner and tone the Telerin couple realized that they had received their judgment. "Though there was much doubt about the strength of your bond before, it is now clear to me that if you stay true to each other and remember all that you have learned here, then your marriage can be salvaged.

"Your path will not be easy, however. There will be times when temptation to return to your previous habits will overcome you, but should you succumb to your old ways you will fail as husband and wife. You shall journey on now to Lórien, where the remainder of Vanimë's life account awaits you. Lainanu shall lead you there. May you travel swiftly and with lighter minds."

When Mandos finished, he brought his staff down onto the dais beside his throne, and the Elves felt a sudden chill pass through them. Lainanu, who remained standing in front of his companions on the opposite side of the fountain, turned and bowed deeply to the three Valar. The Telerin couple quickly sank into bows of their own.

"I shall prepare the horses," Lainanu said, rising to his feet. "Be ready within the hour."

Arqueno and Nolwi nodded. Nolwi then excused herself and hurried up the winding staircase and into their chambers to pack their belongings. She did not notice Nienna, who followed her silently.

"You imagined the life of a Teler to be dull. Long have you dreamed of your own adventure, such as those the Elves of Middle-earth speak of when they arrive here, yet your story has turned out to be equally compelling!" Nienna said, startling Nolwi.

"My Lady! Pray forgive my insolence for not noticing your presence!" the Elf exclaimed.

Nienna laughed, dismissing Nolwi's words with a wave of her hand.

"I followed you to counsel you. Long have you thought of yourself as not being courageous, as being a simple and helpless woman. You need to realize that you are far from what you imagine yourself to be. Indeed, you are very strong. You tried to follow your dream when you married Morifinwë. You left the security and comfort of your people for what you desired.

"Then you had the strength to seek sanctuary when you were troubled, returning to your own people in the face of ridicule. You married again, something seldom heard of within the elven culture. And now, in the face of much pain and resentment, you have summoned yourself to repair the bond between you and your husband. You have been strong and independent, Nolwi, from the beginning, though you may not have realized it. What do you think has carried you through all these centuries if not your own resolve?" the Vala said.

Nolwi stopped what she was doing , pausing in the midst of folding a pair of Arqueno's blue leggings. She turned slowly to face the Vala before her.

"Do you really believe that I have those qualities within me?" she whispered.

"I would not be here if what I just said was untrue," Nienna replied. "You will need to marshal your courage in the coming days. I do not fear that you will stray, only that you will be faced with circumstances that you cannot change. Recall that for every action taken, every deed left undone, there is always a price."

With those words, Nienna vanished as suddenly as she had appeared beside Nolwi. The Teler was reminded of a night long ago, when she had uttered a prayer up into the black night sky. She had uttered this prayer countless times over, but this time a voice from the heavens responded, warning her to reconsider her plea, that, as Nienna had just stated, everything always has a price. In her haste then, she thought only of herself—and since had rued her fateful prayer. The Vala's words recalled that prayer now, and her heart sank.

"Nolwi, you can no longer hide and cower from your past. You knew that this day would arrive. You must face the consequences of your actions," she said to herself.

"Know that this time, Nolwi, you will not be alone," came Nienna's voice into her mind. "You have a loving husband who will stand by you, providing you comfort. And you will be in a safe haven, Lórien, where you both can find the solace and support needed to heal. I have faith in you; this time you will prevail, not fail as before."

* * *

><p>A short time later, Nolwi joined her husband and Lainanu in the courtyard of Mandos. The wind was blowing fiercely again, and she shivered as she adjusted her fur-lined cloak. The two men were adjusting the satchels onto the horses, and a few sentinel Maiar hovered in the background. Just as Nolwi's steed was being led to her, the great doors of Mandos' Halls opened, and three figures emerged. The three Elves immediately sank into bows, their glances cast downwards.<p>

Námo's soft voice came across the wind to them:

"Rise, all."

The Elves straightened their postures.

"We came to wish you farewell. We are all very pleased with the growth you have made in the fortnight you spent in my halls," the Vala continued. "Of course, we will be monitoring your progress…Until we meet again…_Namárië_…"

"_Namárië_…" the Elves responded simultaneously as they mounted their horses.

With a final glance and wave at the gathered Valar, the three rode out of the courtyard. The formidable gates closed behind them as silently as when they first arrived. The Valar remained in the courtyard, watching their retreat.

"Never has there been a family so intriguing as the Fëanorians. From the start, they have pushed the boundaries of Eru's laws; even after death, their effect lingers still. I suspect that this will not be the end of their entire story," Nienna said.

Vairë looked at her spouse with a knowing smile, answering Nienna, "Only Time will tell."

"Indeed, this is but one of many chapters in the grand Fëanorian tale," Námo said.

* * *

><p>The descent down the misty, rocky path seemed to be much shorter than the ascension a fortnight ago. Though their minds were far from idle, not a single word passed the lips of any of the Elves until they had reached flat ground. Lainanu broke the silence first.<p>

"Our journey to Lórien will take a month," he told Arqueno and Nolwi. "Though the journey has been long and tiring for all, we must endure but a little longer until the end approaches."

Arqueno directed his steed to stand directly aside of Lainanu.

"We both," Arqueno said, indicating himself and his wife, "cannot thank you enough for everything you have endured. I am unable to fathom the difficulty you faced in keeping your true charge hidden. What I cannot understand is why you agreed to undertake this task of aiding us. What was it in particular that drew you to us?"

Lainanu turned his face slowly onto Arqueno. "Your troubles reminded me of mine. We both face challenges with our children—though for you personally _hîr nín_ Arqueno the children are _híril nín_ Nolwi's rather than yours. Despite this fact, I felt a personal connection with you," he said. "I knew that you needed someone who had a traumatic experience greater than or equal to you, who was able to overcome the fear involved."

"I cannot thank you enough for all the trouble we put you through. Had you not come to us, Arqueno and I would have fallen into a deeper ravine than we were in initially," Nolwi said, drawing up her steed on the other side of Lainanu.

"Once you are finished with your business in Lórien, I would like for you to meet my wife. My intuition tells me that this time she will meet with me, and we will finally settle our differences," Lainanu replied, eyes shining with tears.

"We would be honored, Lainanu," Nolwi and Arqueno said together. "To Lórien!"

* * *

><p>The three Elves arrived to the Gardens of Lórien about a month later. Evening was approaching when they came upon the Vala Irmo's dwelling. In contrast to the dark hues of Mandos, green and silver colored the realm of Estë and Irmo. The smell of cedar and pine trees mingled with the aromas of flowers. Glowworms emitted lights as if passing secretly coded messages to one another. Pools and lakes glittered silver in the dying light. Soft, eerie singing rose up to greet the travellers, and they found themselves pulling their horses to a stop.<p>

"It is beautiful…" Nolwi breathed.

"I can see why it is a place of healing. Simply looking at it from this vantage point makes my soul feel much lighter," Arqueno said.

Lainanu smiled. "The Valar themselves come here for rejuvenation. Every weary soul who comes to Lórien finds exactly what they need to heal. You have to want to heal, to put the effort in. Heniach nin? To truly heal, you must first embrace your pain."

This last sentence lingered in Nolwi's mind. She felt the Laiquendu's amber eyes upon her, as if piercing right through her. A sudden shiver went down her spine, and she found herself whispering a question whose answer she greatly feared, "Vanimë is never returning, is she?"

"I do not know that answer, but I can take you to someone who does," Lainanu replied. "Are you ready?"

Arqueno reached for Nolwi's hand and squeezed it in a reassuring manner. He then nodded to Lainanu, saying, "We are ready."

Lainanu pointed down the lane in which they had stopped short. Two figures stood at the very end. He bowed his head slightly, and the Telerin couple understood that this part of the journey was for them alone. Their horses started walking again.

The couple could hear whispered voices carried softly on the evening breeze. With each step the horses took towards the figures, Nolwi felt her anxiety return slightly. She knew that her life would never be the same from this point on, but that if she turned and fled she would never have this opportunity again.

"Relax…" came a voice into her mind. "You have tortured yourself for so long. Rest, child, and seek the knowledge for which you have travelled so far."

That voice, it was not altogether unfamiliar to Nolwi. It was a voice from eons before, almost from another lifetime. She felt her anxiety increase tenfold, and her breathing quickened. Nolwi was afraid of meeting that voice, of looking into the face of the person it belonged to. The effect of this situation was too much on Nolwi's nerves. The world darkened before her eyes as she cried out.

* * *

><p>"Open your eyes…" came the voice, louder this time.<p>

Nolwi opened her eyes as directed, surprised to find herself laying on a bench. Next to her stood a tall lady with red hair and a ruddy complexion. Her tresses were carelessly tied back from her face, although rebellious strands fell before her eyes. Her clothes were covered with a white powder.

Nolwi gasped in recognition. "_Herinya_ Nerdanel!"

Nerdanel smiled. "Ah, so you do remember me! I was beginning to wonder if you were angry with me, given that you and Caranthir parted on bad terms."

"I never even thought of you…not that I do not like you!" Nolwi stuttered, ashamed she had forgotten about her former mother-in-law. "How did I even get here?"

"You lost consciousness when you saw me." Nerdanel smiled. "Arqueno carried you here. You will join him soon, but I wanted to talk with you first, as I have not seen you in eons, my dear."

While Nerdanel spoke, Nolwi was looking around, admiring the sculptures and statues adorning the segment of the garden they were in.

"I come here to sculpt. I find that my work brings peace and comfort to the poor souls that need healing. In turn, it gives me much satisfaction," Nerdanel said.

Nolwi did not know what to say, fidgeting with her hands in her lap. Nerdanel continued working, humming softly under her breath. Finally, she said, "I will not deny that my heart was greatly saddened when you no longer spoke to me."

"I did not intentionally cut off communication with you. After Alqualondë, I was so withdrawn I fled to the security of my parents' home. I never once thought to check on you! There I was, pitying myself the loss of my husband and daughters—my daughters' loss being my own fault—when you lost more than I did! I cannot forgive myself for being so selfish! Forgive me, please!" Nolwi said, wringing her hands in shame.

"Nolwi, you have nothing to be ashamed of. I understand your situation completely. I feel nothing but love towards you. You are like a daughter to me. I could never be angry with you. You do not have to explain yourself to me," the older woman said.

"But you did not leave your husband and children out of weakness and shame like I did. You did not curse them. You truly loved Fëanor and your sons. When you wedded Fëanor, you were prepared. I merely lusted after an unattainable dream, and when the time came for me to be strong, I fled without looking back!" Nolwi cried. "So yes, I do have to explain myself. I am a selfish, evil person!"

"The important thing now is that you realize your errors and accept the consequences of what you have done. I hold no ill will towards you, my child. I have always loved you as my own. I wish you happiness, as I always have," Nerdanel said.

Again Nolwi did not respond immediately, instead pretending to survey the area around her again while her mind drove on with many thoughts. Nerdanel was so compassionate and loving! Nolwi remembered how all her visits to the red-haired lady's house were full of warmth. Nerdanel truly loved her sons and her husband. She was devoted entirely to Fëanor during their life together, and though he in the end became harsh, he worshipped the earth that his wife trod.

"Did you truly love Fëanor?" Nolwi asked suddenly, coming out of her reverie.

Nerdanel did not instantly reply. Her eyes glistened with tears.

"Fëanor bears my love to the End of Time and the World. His spirit was very strong. Where others saw stubbornness in him, I saw passion. There will never be another like him, and I will never sever my union with him, even though it is considered broken by our laws," she said. "Always is it sung of the love of Beren and Lúthien of Middle-earth, but my love for Fëanor is deeper. Ours is the truest and purest love in all of Arda."

Nolwi hung her head. "You are fortunate," she said.

"A love such as ours is something you must earn, something you must attain. It is not simple fortune," Nerdanel responded. "You have that chance now with Arqueno, if you treasure him for what he is, for how he treats you. Remember that, my dear. Few things in life come spontaneously. You earn what you put into any relationship. Remember that."

"Truly you earned your title 'the Wise'. I promise to call upon you and that I shall remain estranged from you no longer," Nolwi said, embracing her mother-in-law tightly.

"Go now, my dear. Your questions about your daughter Vanimë await you. _Namárië_."

Nolwi heard her name being called again on the wind and followed it through many small gardens. Dusk had settled now, and the glowworms were shining brightly. Nightingales called to one another, hiding in the trees. The eerie singing started again.

Ahead of her, she saw a small circle of willows in the midst of a pool. As she approached, Nolwi saw a crystal bridge leading to the trees, which were located on a small isle. In the middle of the trees was a silver basin. Beside it stood a tall, silver-haired lady clad in white. She held a pitcher in her hands. Arqueno stood beside her.

"Welcome, Nolwi. We were waiting for you. I am Celebrían, daughter of Lord Celeborn and the Lady Galadriel, whom you know as Artanis. I was born in Middle-earth, and came here after suffering much torment. I aid those who come to the Gardens of Lórien seeking healing. But for you, I offer much more," the lady said, pouring the contents of the pitcher into her basin.

"You are Artanis' daughter? You mirror her beauty. Is she here with you?" Nolwi queried as she moved beside her husband. Nolwi suddenly realized how long it had been since she last saw Artanis, a distant kinswoman, and she longed to see her.

"She remains in Middle-earth with my father, my husband, and my children. I have not seen them for many centuries, though my heart longs to be with them once more…" said the Lady of Rivendell. "But do not trouble yourself concerning me. You came for Vanimë. You came for your daughter Vanimë, and you are being allowed to see the events of her life with your own eyes. Please, be seated by this basin."

Arqueno and Nolwi noticed a bench just behind them, so they seated themselves upon it.

From this position, they could peer directly down into the basin. Satisfied that they were comfortable, Celebrían closed her eyes and lifted her hands over the basin, uttering words under her breath that the Telerin couple could not understand. The water began to stir, and images appeared on the surface. Celebrían opened her eyes, smiling at the seated couple.

"I believe Vanimë's journal ended with her demise in Aran Thranduil's court in Mirkwood after fighting Dol Guldur's invasion. Here is the continuation…"

With that, Celebrían vanished from the enclosure, leaving Arqueno and Nolwi alone. As before when reading Vanimë's journal, the couple felt themselves being pulled into the visions in the basin. The Gardens faded and once more they found themselves staring at Vanimë's motionless body, Thranduil weeping over her.


	11. Heartbreak

**Disclaimer/Author's Note: **My sincerest apologies for the great delay in publishing this! All I can say is life has me in its cruel grips! Of course, anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien. Without further ado, I present chapter eleven to you! Reviews greatly appreciated!

**Heartbreak**

It had been three days since the defeat of Dol Guldur's forces at the hands of the Elvenking's people and their allies. The healing chamber was not as full as it had been, for the dead bodies were buried immediately after death. There still remained a number of injured warriors, however. They were all on the furthest end of the chamber. This back part of the hall was partitioned off with heavy wooden dividers. Guards stood watch, admitting only those who had business.

Innas came silently up to the partition. He waited a few moments before his father joined him. The guards bowed to the older man but admitted neither visitor.

"Is he still in there?" Innas asked Aranel, knowing the answer already.

"I am afraid so, _ion nín_," came the reply.

"It has been three days. What does he expect?"

"Do not be so harsh. He lost her."

"Serves him right, to have treated her so cruelly. At least she can rest in peace, where he can harm her no more."

"Innas!"

"I speak the truth, _Adar_. You know it, even if you will not speak it yourself!"

"Try to be a little empathic. Now is not the time to be rash."

Innas rolled his eyes.

"This is insanity. He needs to come out of there. She needs to be…to be…"

Innas could not bring himself to finish his sentence, instead collapsing onto his knees and letting out a wounded yell. The guards froze, unsure of what to do.

"Stand aside," Aranel told the guards. "This madness has to end. He cannot stay in there forever. There are many matters that he needs to address. The people await his emergence, wait for directions on how to proceed. There are delegations of Men and Elves he needs to greet."

The guards remained in their spots, uncertain of what to do. Irritated, Aranel pushed them roughly aside and slipped in between them before they could stop him. He ran down the chamber until he reached the secluded corner where Vanimë lay in bed. Taking a deep breath, the counselor readied himself.

"Is she not the most beautiful woman you have ever seen?"

Thranduil lay next to his beloved, cradling her pale, gray head in his arms. He was stroking her hair in long, slow motions. He had heard Innas' cry and Aranel's steps.

He kept his gaze focused on Vanimë, gripping her tightly, protectively to himself.

"She was lovely," Aranel affirmed, allowing himself tears of sadness.

"Why the passive tone? She is merely sleeping…" Thranduil said. "I love watching her at rest. So angelic. Unguarded. Vulnerable. Her true self."

"Sire, it has been three days. She is sleeping, yes, but not the kind of sleep that she will awaken from on these shores…"

Thranduil growled. "Lies…"

Aranel took one of Vanimë's lifeless hands.

"Cold. Stone cold. Dead cold. She is dead, sire…" Aranel said forcefully. "You cannot continue to deny this. She needs to be—"

"Buried!" exclaimed Thranduil suddenly, cutting off Aranel. He lifted Vanimë's head from his lap and sank onto his knees beside her bed, burying his face in the sheets. "Do you think I do not know this? That I killed her, and now I must bury her!"

"You did not kill her. She was injured fighting for you, defending you. She was fighting because she loved you!" Aranel replied.

Thranduil smiled grimly. He pushed Vanimë to the other edge of the bed before laying next to her once more. He reached for a brush on the small table next to the bed and began to brush out her hair. Aranel could see the King's sapphire eyes shining brightly with tears. From the corner of his eye, Aranel noted Innas creeping silently towards them. He motioned with his left hand behind his back to stop, and to his silent gratitude, his son honored his command.

"Do my words amuse you, sire?" Aranel asked.

Thranduil did not respond promptly. He continued to brush Vanimë's thick, curly, hair, which gained volume with each stroke. Aranel felt himself become irritated—he knew how much Vanimë struggled to maintain her hair's thickness. She was always self-conscious about her hair looking sleek and smooth! Was Thranduil doing this purposely now that she could not stop him?

"She was always fighting, from the moment I first saw her…" Thranduil said after some time, his voice soft and sultry. "Is this not true, my darling?"

Behind him, Aranel felt Innas inching closer. The counselor again motioned for his son to cease his advancement.

"It was a hot summer's day, with the sun shining down onto the luscious green lawns of Doriath. The courtiers and counselors were out sparring, relishing the glorious day. Of course, there were ladies present, fussing and swooning over the ones they desired, and the men in question had to put on an elaborate display. It was as much a sparring contest as it was a showing of airs and pride.

"I was in the shade of a few majestic trees, observing the scene before me with lazy interest. My gaze was drawn to two figures that were approaching the gathering from afar. From their attire, I knew that they were guards. It was not until they were closer that I realized that one was a woman, Vanimë. Oh, Aranel, I wish you had been there to see her!" Thranduil whispered.

Aranel had to sit beside the King on the floor.

"Tell me how she was…" he encouraged.

"I thought I had seen many beautiful women, Aranel, but Vanimë challenged me even in this. Her beauty was not merely from her features, but from within as well. Her presence demanded attention. She radiated power and respect. She exemplified perfection for me. I was spellbound in that instant, and I knew I had to have her. What you have seen of her here cannot be compared to her true persona," the King continued. "Of course, what I was seeing was the Light of the Two Trees in her…

"She was walking alongside Beleg, the legendary archer of Doriath, her face concealed by her hood, accentuating her piercing gray eyes. Even though the Light of Aman was dimmed then by her sheer willpower, she could not completely hide it within her eyes, for they shone as bright as diamonds glistening in the golden sun. Her gaze roved over me, and in it I perceived utter power, and also a resonating wound, an injury so deep I feared it would cleave her in two. Yet she continued alongside Beleg, feigning contentment when I knew she was pained beyond any doubt..." Thranduil said.

"So you knew, then, that she was not of these shores, that she came from across the Sea, from Valinor?" Aranel inquired.

Thranduil lifted his golden head, his usually bright sapphire eyes were now bloodshot and glimmering with tears. "It was difficult in those days to determine the true source of the light that enshrouded any Elf. Doriath was fair, but very few dwelt there who had seen the Two Trees. Others had not, yet their auras also radiated brightly. The Eldar of old shone from within, not like the Elves of today. Yes, we still shine, but it is not of the same bearing as the ancient ones, the true _edhil_of long ago. Even I bore this illumination, though my own spirit has dwindled for some time now..."

There was silence, and in this quiescence, Aranel understood what his King was attempting to deny: that he had always known what Vanimë was, yet in his blinding pride, refused to accept that he would betray his principles for love of her.

"You knew...you knew from the moment you saw her, that she was a lady of great bearing, and that she came from the Noldorin Kings of Valinor..."

Thranduil was silent, unmoving, listening as if the Valar themselves were passing judgment on him.

"Yes, yes I did..." he whispered, shoulders slumped, as in defeat.

"But you could not bear the thought that you would love a Kinslayer, no matter how ethereal she looked, nor did you stop for a moment to fathom that she might not bear any of her father's sins, that her only crime was being the daughter of such men of misdeeds..." Aranel said.

"It was a dark time, an age of anger and pain. Middle-earth was innocent, yet it became caught up in the Fëanorians' path. They had no right to bring their war to us, to entangle us in their calamities!"

"_Aran_, why are you ignoring my main question? Surely, after all that has happened, you will not still hold onto your anger and guilt? The very least you can do now is offer an explanation to yourself. Though Vanimë likely cannot hear you now, at least you will clear your conscience. I find that it helps to put your thoughts into audible words. Doing so soothes the soul and mind. Or do you wish to remain forever tormented?"

Thranduil smiled thinly. "I see now how skilled a courtier you truly are. Such finesse is a fine art."

Aranel bowed his head in acceptance of this compliment.

"Very well, I shall tell you my reasoning," the Elvenking said, sighing heavily. Innas crept a little closer, straining his ears to catch every word. "When word reached _Aran_ Elu Thingol of the Kinslaying, Quenya was banned, and the Noldor were extradited from the kingdom. Elu Thingol was greatly grieved, and rightly so. The Kinslaying was a horrific deed-to think that the Noldor murdered so many innocents for an already darkened mission!

"So when I saw Vanimë, and I guessed at her true nature, I could not bring myself to believe that she was innocent. How could any of the Noldor be innocent of the atrocity that was committed at Alqualondë? I had vowed never to forgive the Noldor, that I would always hate them! And later when my fair homeland, when my beloved Doriath was destroyed inadvertently because of the Silmarilli, my heart hardened further. By then I had truly developed a love for Vanimë, yet I chose to believe her story, that she was of Middle-earth, despite the great warning in my heart."

Aranel was silent, and behind him Innas was mulling over the words he had just heard. Both men felt their hearts go out slightly to their King.

"There will always be anger and pain, my liege; they will never entirely disappear. Perhaps the Fëanorians were wrong to bring their troubles here, to continue their dark tale in the Hither Lands, but they were trying to reclaim something they held precious. Perhaps the manner in which they sought revenge was wrong, but your condemning Lady Vanimë is arguably just as severe. You demonstrated the same type of anger as they did. Who would you deem more responsible then, more accountable?

"I am not being critical, I only wish to understand why it was you did what you did to one who gave everything, including her very _f__ë__a_, for you."

Thranduil said not another word for some time, instead turning his gaze back upon the lifeless form of his beloved, burying his face in her hair, cradling her body in his arms as he rocked back and forth, weeping silent tears of anger, anguish, and loss. He was beginning to realize that this parting was permanent. Unlike the one he forced her into, this time there would be no chance of her returning. He could follow her now, though, if his grief was too great.

Aranel watched his King descend into the darkness of his heart, watched as his lord felt the heaviness of Vanimë's passing overcome him. From the corner of his eye, he saw his son, torn between his own grief and anger at what the king had done. Finally, after a few moments' hesitation, the younger Elf walked quietly over to Thranduil. Innas crouched down beside his golden-haired lord, placed his right hand over his heart in the traditional elven semblance of grief. With his left hand on the King's shoulder, he said:

"Please, continue telling us about the very first time you met our Mistress Vanimë..."

Nodding his head, the King seemed unfazed that Innas had suddenly appeared at his side. He took a few deep breaths to steady himself before resuming:

"So Beleg and Vanimë moved further through the midst of the crowd, apparently unnoticed by the men sparring all around them. Then, a sudden breeze blew back her hood, and her face was revealed. Then the clamor of swords and halberds stopped as their wielders became aware of a lady amongst them, a lady in the guise of a warrior.

"They began whistling, calling out lewd words, or mocking her, and she seemed not to notice, until one shouted that dressing in the garb of warriors did not warrant one a fighter. How her eyes flashed then! Quick as a lightning bolt she had dashed to him, her sword raised in front of her, her posture as taut as a fox readying to pounce. Pounce she did, striking at him hard and fast, dodging his blows with ease. It seemed to me that her feet were moving in a dance meant to mesmerize, that she was trying to charm him into submissiveness. They sparred for an hour, and never once did she tire. Ah, had you been there to witness her in her fury, a glimmering white whirlwind of anger..."

Here Thranduil paused, allowing his mind to take him back to that day so long ago, when the world was still young. When he closed his eyes tightly for a few seconds and re-opened them, he found himself submerged in this memory.

On the long green lawn ahead of him was Vanimë, dressed in her orange tunic, brown leggings, and maroon boots. Her brown hair, curls pulled into a tight bun at her nape, gleamed in the sunlight. The men all around were shouting, encouraging her attacker. Only Beleg remained silent, a faint wisp of a smile on his face as he observed the duel from afar. Thranduil moved up to this legendary archer, nodding towards the sparring, and commenting: "She is not as defenseless as she seems."

Beleg turned towards the then-prince, bowing slightly as he responded, "No, she is not, as your friend is learning."

Just then, there was a cry and a clatter of a sword, as Vanimë trapped her attacker against the trunk of a large tree, her eyes shining. Thranduil heard Beleg chuckle under his breath as he picked up his bow, walking back slowly towards the palace. Vanimë flipped her hood back over her face with one hand, as the other held her sword against her assailant. The gathered crowd moved away, just as surprised as the defeated nobleman. Thranduil waited until only himself, Vanimë, and his defeated friend remained in the dell before he approached the two duelers.

"What a fine accomplishment, my lady," Thranduil said, bowing to her.

Vanimë eyed him suspiciously.

"Accomplishment? No, it is not so. He asked for this," she replied coolly.

Behind her, his friend said, "You dare to speak thusly to _Ernil _Thranduil?"

"Silence, fool. Perhaps it is your luck that you have a friend with authority, otherwise matters might have ended differently for you. This should be a warning not to incur my wrath in the future. Do not play with the kitten unless you can handle its scratches," she said to her attacker, pushing the sword a little deeper. "Should I release him, sire?"

They locked gazes, Thranduil's sapphire eyes encompassing her stormy gray ones. He could read hatred in them. There was something else too, a force that she struggled to subdue, something that he tried but failed to comprehend. Thranduil nodded in reply to her question to him. After a few more moments, she turned her head away and her gaze back onto his friend. Her sword-bearing arm began to drop slowly, and then she stopped just above his manhood, pressing the blade back into his body.

Thranduil found himself smiling. Here was a lady who was as dangerous as she was lovely. Her spirit was her own, and could not be dominated by anyone. He felt that should her spirit be tamed, she would wilt and fade away. She was a feral being, and he wanted nothing more than to be by her side. He found himself suddenly desiring to be always by her side, to be constantly enchanted by the tenor of her spirit—and this sudden emotion startled him.

"But I am not so unwitting as to be rude to the prince." Vanimë released her weapon. "My lord," she said, bowing curtly to Thranduil.

"It seems that my friend here truly deserved what he received. My apologies, lady, for his foolishness. I promise you it will not happen again."

"Next time I see you, you will be missing a part of you..." Vanimë promised the man she defeated, before hurrying after Beleg.

This ancient memory faded away slowly, leaving the image of Vanimë burning bright in his mind. When he opened his eyes next, it was to find both Aranel and Innas paying their respects to the Noldo whom he still clutched tightly in his arms.

"She is gone...she is gone where I cannot follow...where I cannot harm her!"

These last few words stopped the councilman and his son in their tracks. They could hear the suffering and the torment in his voice now, hear him struggle to finally admit all the wrong that he had done to her. Aranel felt himself pity his lord, but Innas pulled him away. He purposefully remained within earshot of the King.

"He must not be placated; he must feel the torment of his ways, feel it burn into the very stone in his chest that he calls a heart!" said Innas. "For many a century he has been the perpetrator; it is high time that he became the victim! No one was there for Vanimë in all the torment she endured; why should we comfort him, when he was her torturer? For what he committed, in the end he must face the consequences of his actions, for better or for worse—and the days of reckoning are upon him now."

Though Aranel's heart was breaking for his own grief at Vanimë's passing, and at the treacherous behavior of her former lover, his King, he could not help but partially agree with his son's heated words. Aranel's days in the court of his lord had taught him when to keep angry words to himself, and when to speak them aloud. Unlike his son, a warrior trained to respond immediately to any danger, the counselor could curb his emotions when necessary, but this situation was testing his patience more than he had imagined.

Suddenly, all the emotions that he had bottled inside of himself over these past months were surfacing. Aranel's rage at his king's haughtiness, not just in regards to his treatment of Vanimë, but also at how he was governing his kingdom of late, troubled him the most.

The courtier recalled how he had gone to Lake-town to rally an alliance to defend Mirkwood from Dol Guldur. All this because he promised _Ernil_ Legolas he would save Mirkwood from its lost ruler. How it had cost Aranel to hide such a thing from his King! That he was sundered from his master at a time that Thranduil needed him most almost rent his heart in two—to have left the people helpless in the care of a king who had been led astray by his own poisoned thoughts!

Míriel's image appeared before his eyes, the poor maiden who was violated, violated because she loved her blind King. "Míriel, forgive me!" Aranel cried, as he sank onto the floor of the healing chambers, succumbing to his own tears. "How did I leave you so alone? I, who knew the grave risks of accompanying _aran __l__í__n_! I am as guilty as he of your injury! Oh, if Eru could take me now to the Halls of Mandos, at least Vanimë's company would comfort me greatly!"

Innas had stopped when his father paused in the corridor. Though he could not read his father's mind, Innas gauged from the pained expression on his face the nature of Aranel's thoughts. The warrior's emerald eyes welled up with tears at the words he heard his father utter.

Reaching down to lift him onto his feet, he said, "_Adar_, do not blame yourself. None of what happened was of your doing. If anything, I should be blamed, for I was the one who abandoned you and Míriel."

At the mention of his beloved's name, Innas' voice quavered and his body crumpled onto the floor next to his father, "Míriel, my dear sweet _elleth_...that you had to pay the price of everything that happened! How can it be fair that you will no longer receive comfort from Vanimë...Vanimë who is...is...dead..."

The two men remained huddled together, weeping silently at all the loss they and their kingdom had endured within the last several months. After some time, they were able to slowly stagger to their feet, though their faces still shined with tears. They passed the guards who still stood watch at the partition, their faces, grim when Aranel and Innas passed them earlier, were now stricken with emotion as well.

As father and son walked away, Innas' words lingered, seeping into Thranduil's ears and penetrating his breast. The King wept, wept for his pride and prejudice, wept for his wrongful ways, wept for the pain and loss he had caused to Vanimë, Míriel, and his kingdom. With his eyes closed, he felt the roughness of tree bark against his back, and the cold point of a sword on his chest.

A hooded figure in flaming orange let out a piercing battle cry in a language he once knew but had long forgotten, and as the blade sank into his breast, he cried, "Next time I see you, you will take my heart!"


	12. Reflections and Remorse

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers: **Drumroll please for this chapter! Things have been so busy for me between getting a new job, my senior project for my bachelor, and just life in general. At any rate, the usual: anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. I realized in writing this chapter that it conflicts with _Ancient Wounds_ in that I never said Vanimë crossed the Helcaraxë—I will revise that later. Additionally, the Quenyan lyrics for the selection from _Into the West_ taken from elvish-org-gwaith-tothewest-htm (each - being a DOT; website address). Elvish words from _The Council of Elrond_ website. As always, please read and REVIEW!

**Reflections and Remorse**

Nolwi and Arqueno stared blankly at the scene they had just witnessed: Thranduil's admittance to wronging Vanimë because of her heritage, his realization that his pride and prejudice were the cause of her demise, and his confession that he had loved her from the first moment he had first seen her.

Arqueno reached for Nolwi's left hand. She grabbed it immediately with such intensity that his fingers began to tingle. He felt her warm hand turn icy cold within a matter of seconds.

Arqueno imagined the intensity of the frigidity she was feeling like the cruel pass of Helcaraxë; he could almost hear her heart being torn into shreds from the jarring icicles filling her insides like an isolated cavern. Her body tensed as she tried to fight back the hot tears that filled her gray eyes. She gripped her husband's hand even tighter, causing him to wince from the increasing discomfort. She sucked in a breath, and to Arqueno it sounded like the wailing of a thousand fell voices lost in a harsh wind. Again he was reminded of Vanimë's tale of crossing that treacherous pass.

"Oh, Thranduil..." she sighed, her voice heavy with emotion. "It is only now at the end of her life that you come to value her for what she is, for who she is. You poor, lost soul; Thranduil, you poor soul..." Nolwi descended into sobs.

This last statement caught Arqueno completely off guard. Nolwi had covered her face with both hands now as she wept. Arqueno relinquished his throbbing right hand, massaging it with his left as he thought about his wife's surprising words. Why would she pity the Elvenking now, after all that he had done? Was he not the very reason that Vanimë was dead? Was he not the cause of her greatest heartache, her greatest, deepest, most ancient wound? He furrowed his brow as he mulled over these thoughts, kneading his right palm until a throbbing in his temples joined the tingling in his hand.

"_Umin hanya_ (I do not understand)..." said Arqueno after awhile.

Nolwi raised her head, sniffing. "What is there that you do not understand?"

"Why the sudden sympathy for Thranduil?"

"Are you defending him?"

"Should I not be defending Vanimë? I was under the impression that it was she you cared about, not this tormenter."

Nolwi did not reply immediately, instead turning her golden head back towards the clearing where she had met Lady Nerdanel. The red-haired woman's final words came back to Nolwi, and the Teler found herself suddenly repeating them aloud, as if in answer to her husband's question:

_"A love such as ours is something you must earn, something you must attain. It is not simple fortune…Few things in life come spontaneously. You earn what you put into any relationship. Remember that."_

Arqueno stared at his wife, utterly lost."_Mana quentel?_ (What did you say?)"

"_Herinya_ (Lady) Nerdanel said that to me when I told her how fortunate she was that she and Fëanor had a truly remarkable love. Lainanu has been telling us this same moral repeatedly in various ways. Even the Valar—Nienna, Vairë, and Námo—have counseled us about this!

"I now fully appreciate the notion of _'reaping what you sow'_. Look at our marriage as a prime example! There was a tremendous canyon between us, filled with the unspoken words and buried emotions we cached throughout the centuries. Had Vanimë's journal not reached us, forcing our latent misery to come out of the shadows and into the sun, we would have ended up separated! All of the tension we so diligently worked into our union would have imploded on us. But now we are working through our issues together, and look what is happening! We are beginning to close the large chasm between us!

"Likewise, Thranduil and my beloved daughter Vanimë began their relationship on the unstable grounds of deceit and pride. Thranduil was not comfortable that she was a Noldo—and a Fëanorian, no less! His arrogance blinded him from seeking out her full story. Vanimë felt uncomfortable being a granddaughter of Fëanor, felt the guilt of her fathers' Curse upon her. She cherished Thranduil's love so much that it blinded her from telling him the truth at the start of their romance. When she finally confessed, it was detrimental to both of them. Ultimately, it was both of their pride and prejudice that led to their downfall."

Arqueno continued to stare at his wife, unsure of what to say or think. It was clear that she had been reflecting on this for quite a while. Her response was a token to her name, derived from _wisdom_, evident in the way she searched deep within her heart to wholly grasp the situation.

It took him a few moments to answer her. "You certainly have come a long way from a few months ago when you seemed so distant from me," he said. "We both have made great strides to properly reconcile with one another. I see now what you mean, that what effort one puts into a situation, one obtains its precise return. I do feel closer to you already, though we still have a long path ahead of us. I also see how both Vanimë and Thranduil sabotaged their lives by employing the same tactics we did. No good ever comes from deception. Vanimë, of all people, should have known this from the start. She had experience to draw from. Yet matters of the heart can be so blinding."

"The Noldor are a headstrong people. Vanimë believed that Thranduil would forgive her without question, forgetting that blindly prejudiced hatred and anger are not so easily erased. Where Thranduil was arrogant, Vanimë was both cunning and naïve to shroud her lineage from him," Nolwi responded matter-of-factly. "Only pure, indiscriminate understanding and love can conquer hate."

"You are an amazing woman, Nolwi," Arqueno whispered, kissing her forehead tenderly. "You truly read others with your heart."

Nolwi blushed, feeling her skin quiver at the touch of her husband's lips.

"Let us continue the story," she said hurriedly, unsure of how much privacy she and her husband had.

Arqueno smiled impishly, pleased that his kiss, although intentionally chaste, excited his wife in a way he had never seen before. "Yes, let us continue, my love."

The couple peered once more into the silver basin, feeling the world around them disappear as they were submerged again in Vanimë's mind. The image of her still, gray body appeared, this time accompanied by her voice. She began to narrate:

_It is at the end that you think of the beginning, think of everything that you did, everything that you did not do, that led to the situation in which you now find yourself. But what was the start of my story, the true origin of my tale? For me, it was the inception of the Silmarilli into my grandsire Fëanor's mind. Because of the blackness that crept into his thoughts, which he poured into his sons, I lay here in this bed, my life force ebbing slowly away into nothingness, leaving my once sharp mind and limber body as useful as a demented individual is at a war council. I had become as helpless as a newly born elfling left to fend for itself in Taur-e-Ndaedelos, the Forest of Great Fear, as Eryn Galen was now called. _

_For three days and nights I lay in the bed in the back of the healing chambers of Eryn Galen, Thranduil crumbling at my side. I could not speak, move, or see. A great darkness shrouded me, dulling my senses. Sporadically I felt sharp pinches as of needles, and then something coursing through my veins. Icy coldness began to spread through my body, starting at my toes, working its way up towards my head. I faded in and out of the veiled, mist-like trance of consciousness. _

_Time became my enemy, as I had no way of stopping it. How ironic that Time was now my bane, my one doom! I had always felt that in time, Thranduil would learn to forgive me. Now that he had, I was leaving. It felt as if I had spent most of my life lying in that bed, imprisoned within my own mind and body, awaiting the cold touch of death._

_My hearing was not entirely absent, for at times I could catch a few words of what was being spoken around me. The words I was able to catch were grim, consisting mainly of how grave my wounds were. I also heard orders being given, requests for more volunteers for blood. Ah, so that was the reason for the needles and the liquid flowing through my veins—I was receiving transfusions! _

_There was much weeping as well. I heard my beloved __Míriel, that dear, innocent girl whom I treated like my own daughter, cry uncontrollably at my side. She had always dreamed of my triumphant return to her, but never did she imagine that the condition of that glorious return would be my death. So she cried, cried for her loss of me, cried for the King's loss of me, and cried for her own hurts and violation. _

_Then there was Vanië, my sweet, younger twin sister. She was devastated, as was evident by her tone and quaking voice. She whispered to me the full tale of her part in all that had transpired, imparting images into my mind, as well. She apologized many times, regretting the long silence between us, lamenting our physical and emotional distance. Vanië told me how she was not long for life on these shores, that she would return home. She had felt a peace in her heart, that the Valar would allow her return._

_Ai, home, Valinor! To be among our kindred again! To speak the blessed language of the Valar, and to be in their hallowed company once more! Something broke inside my soul then, as I realized that it was far too late for me to partake of any of these joys. But it was not so for Vanië; she could finally go home now, return to the arms of our mother, seek at last true serenity and forget all the pain she had suffered._

_"I never thought that I would be at your deathbed, Vanimë. I had always imagined that of the two of us, I would perish. You have always been stronger, always had a will to live. I was the one who was passive, who was frightened of nearly everything, who needed as much comforting as I could receive. And when I imagined your death, it was a glorious one, defending innocent lives, not lying in bed like a helpless maiden! _

"_How cruel is your death, a mockery of all that you have struggled for and against! How can the Valar allow this to happen to you? If anything, I should be the one they take, not you! There are many here who love you, who need you! It is I who am worthless, that the world will not miss or even grieve for!_

_"Do you remember when we left Adar's house, and we camped on the edge of the forest? That night a lone, hungry wolf was stalking us. We were petrified of resting our minds and getting eaten! I awoke to find the beast gnawing at our knapsack, which contained only a small amount of the dried meat we had taken from Adar's home. _

"_The only thing I could do was scream and run! I left you to fend for yourself, and for me, alone. I scampered up a huge tree and stayed there all night. I heard the awful cries of the wolf, and your shouts when you were woken up. I imagined the worst of things: that the wolf had torn you into shreds, that I would find your beautiful body marred and scattered over the ground. The noise was unbearable; it lasted throughout the night. When dawn came, the din had vanished. There was a deafening silence. I was torn between knowing and not knowing—but not knowing is worse because it leaves so much for the mind to fill in, and my mind should never be given such opportunities!_

_"When the mist cleared, I perceived a large shape crouched low on the ground. I was filled with dread in that moment, sure that you had been the wolf's victim. As I crept closer, I saw the flash of your eyes from between your curls, and I knew that you had won the fight. But your face, hands, and clothing were drenched with blood and matted fur. Numerous cuts I saw as well, on your arms, face, and legs, and these were bleeding. Your body quivered, and even as I watched your stomach was heaving. _

"_There was a look in your eyes that I had never seen before that time, something which prior to that day I had only noticed in Adar and Grandsire's eyes, and it alarmed me to find it within you as well. You looked as if you had discovered a secret power within you, a hidden savageness that you enjoyed. I sensed an internal dilemma within you then, almost as if you were splitting into two personas. It pained me to see you severed so, caught in between two existences. I knew not if you would ever be whole again._

_"I think that is when you first realized how to survive in our new home of Endorenna (Middle-earth). You appreciated this important concept long before I did. That fight forced you to make a decision that ruled your future course. If the wolf had won, you would have succumbed to all the strife we had dealt with. It would have been an easy way out for you-something you never surrendered to._

"_But you were victorious that day, and I feared the repercussions. Already I could see that you had grown stern, withdrawing into yourself as was the wont of Adar and his sire before him. I knew that a part of you had died with the wolf. My fear was that it would never be returned._

_"Yet instead of being sensitive to you in that time of much instability, I distanced myself, and continued doing so until we lived apart. I should have been more perceptive to your needs, or at the very least have been thankful for the care you had provided me! How selfish and ungrateful I was! Instead of rejoicing at the news of you and Thranduil in Doriath, I subjected you to further negligence. When I tried to relay my concern, you recoiled. And you had every right. For who was I to suddenly dictate your life when I had kept myself estranged from you! I bear equal, if not more, fault in our silence!_

_"And so many centuries later, you lie on this bed, in the forest of the one to whom you have given not only your heart, but your fëa as well. It is as if all the days of our lives on both these shores and the hallowed ones have come full circle! All I can think of is that wolf from long ago, when you attacked it unmercilessly, almost animal-like in your fury toward at all that had come to pass. It seems ironic that once you made yourself whole again, you fell defending the innocence of a people unappreciative of you, just as when you fought the wolf defending me!"_

_Here, Vanië threw herself at me, sobbing hysterically for all the wrong she had caused. My heart shattered into a thousand shards of ice. Why is it always at the end of things that we rue what was not done, what can not be reversed? Why is it always too late to rectify mistakes when we wish to reverse time and alter the past?_

_"May you always be whole, my dear sister, and fragmented no longer!__" my sister wept, before finally leaving my side._

_Next, I recall Innas and Aranel approaching my side. Father and son were silent for such a long time that I perceived them to have left me, but then they both took hold of my hands, one on either side of me, and wept together. Their tears fell like a torrent on my fingers. Their love for me was great._

_As they wept, they told me of what had taken place on the battlefield, and I was able to piece together what Vanië had said and shown me to form a complete picture of the developments. So Thranduil had not been alone after all! Legolas' carefully laid plans had come to fruition; he had secured the alliances of Imladris and Lake-town. Eryn Galen was saved, its people rallied once more behind their formidable King._

_There were others that came to pay their respects to me: a large representation of Eryn Galen, along with the Elves of Imladris, led by the esteemed Glorfindel. The natives of the land in which I lay dying sang songs of grief in their own Silvan tongue. Glorfindel and his company, however, spoke in Sindarin, and then later in Noldorin Quenya, which fell like music on my ears, easing the pain I was feeling throughout my body._

"_May you find your peace at long last now, Vanimë, __Morifinwiel," the noble Noldo murmured into my ear before departing from me._

_Still others came and went as I faded in and out of reality. Eventually the needles in my arm were removed. Isteth, my healer, had deemed the transfusions unsuccessful. By the end of the second day, the frigid sensation had reached my head, and I knew it was not long before I would be leaving this life. I was terrified of the unknown, of what lay ahead of me. This fright amid the physical lack of warmth reminded me of my passage across the __Helcaraxë. It was indeed as if all the events in my life had come full circle._

_During this entire endless procession of mourners, there was one who remained by my side the entire time, only one who refused to leave me. Thranduil, my beautiful, proud Sindarin lord, could not find it within him to forsake me now. His strong arms encircled me, pulling me into a crushing embrace against his chest. I heard his heart pounding against his ribs, protesting my passing. His velvety lips were clamped down upon mine with harsh force as he kissed me deeply. I heard his yell, a wounded, feral yell, defying my demise. _

_A small spark of life fired deep within in me, and my eyes flew open for a few seconds, drinking him in greedily. But it was not Thranduil that was kissing me with such vigor; rather I found myself staring into Haldir's stern eyes. _

_Thranduil sang many songs to me, songs I had sung to him in days long-past, in the language that his ancient, dead King had Banned. He recounted the first memory he had of me, something I myself had recalled only a few days past. _

_He spoke of when I had recently arrived at Menegroth, on a cool evening. I was shivering in my light dress, and he offered me his cloak so I could keep warm. That night he had overheard me whispering to myself in Quenya, chided me for using the tongue of the Kinslayers._

_Later he related to Aranel and Innas the second time we met, when I had pinned his friend to a tree after the man challenged that I was not a warrior because I was female. Though Thranduil told Aranel and Innas that was our first meeting, it was not. He had told me long ago that when we met for the second time, he did not recognize me from that evening when he gave me his cloak. _

_I could not see what was happening around me, but by the morning of the third day, in the far distance, I saw an emerald land with white shores glimmering beneath an azure sky. It was as if a silver glass curtain was being rolled back; the divide between the Blessed Realm, my ancient home, and my new abode of Middle-earth was being removed. I was being summoned to the Halls of Mandos._

_With the second arrival of Aranel and Innas, announcing to my former lover that it had been three days since my fall and I was long gone from this life, I felt my body become extremely light. As in the forest nigh several days ago, I felt my spirit detach from my body, and found myself staring down at my soulless shell, which Thranduil was embracing tightly in his madness. I heard a faint, wispy voice calling my name._

"_Vanimë…Vanimë…let your fëa be released…Vanimë, embrace the end of your pain."_

_Another voice, that of a woman, full of sadness and pity, rose in song:_

_"A Caita carelya ammelda ar moiana (Lay down your sweet and weary head) _

_Lanta i lómë, utúlielyë tiëo mettanna (Night is falling; you have to come to journey's end) _

_A lorë si, ar óla len i epë tuller (Sleep now and dream of the ones who came before) _

_Entë yaitar hrestallo pella (They are calling from across a distant shore)_

_"_Man cenilyë eccaianna? (_What can you see on the horizon?)  
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Manen i maiwi ninqui yaitar? (_Why do the white gulls call?)_

Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta (_Across the sea a pale moon rises)_

Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya (_The ships have come to carry you home)_

Rómen ahyuva ve hyellë telpina_ (And all will turn to silver glass)  
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i cála nenissë, ilyë fëar autar (_A light on the water, all souls pass)_

"I Estel vinta ambarenna lómëo (_Hope fades into the world of night)_

Ter fuini lantala, pella enyalië ar lúmë )_Through shadows falling out of memory and time)_

Áva quetë: "Si utúlielwë mettanna" {_Do not say: "We have come now to the end")  
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Hresta ninquë yáma, elyë ar inyë ata ómentuvalwë (_White shores are calling, you and I will meet again}"_


	13. The Choice of Belonging

****Author's Notes/Disclaimers: **Drumroll please for this chapter! Things have been so busy for me between getting a new job, my senior project for my bachelor, and just life in general. At any rate, the usual: anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. **I have tried to keep to canon as much as possible here. **The passage about love is 1 Corinthians 13:4-7. ****Elvish words from _The Council of Elrond _website. As always, please read, enjoy, and REVIEW!**

**The Choice of Belonging**

_And then suddenly, I was re-embodied. I could feel, see, touch, and hear completely again. I was clothed in the purest shade of white I had ever seen, standing in a great hall that resonated with a power that made me anxious for a reason unbeknownst to me at the time. I sensed something very old and foreboding here; a force of great antiquity resided within these walls. _

_There was a low howl which sent shivers up my spine. I imagined it to be the cries of wild animals, but my fear abated when I realized that it was just the wind. There was another sound, like that of a thousand wailing voices. Again I imagined the worst, thinking that the fallen Teleri of Alqualondë were searching for me, seeking long-awaited payment and revenge. Looking out a window, I saw that it was only the dark, foamy waters of the sea below me. The twilight of this place added further mystery to the entire atmosphere. It was almost as if I were in the halls of the Dead...and with a sudden lurch of my stomach, I realized that I was indeed in Mandos._

_It was in that instant that I became conscious that I was not alone. There were three beings before me, all sitting silently on thrones. At times there were little flashes of light as they turned their glittering eyes upon me. The lady on the right was clad in gray, and had a sad look on her face. She held a harp in her hands—hers was the voice I had heard singing. In the center sat a man with dark, penetrating eyes and white hair, half-hidden in the shadows of his hooded face. Next to him, opposite the gray-clad lady, sat a woman with dark tresses. She was weaving a glittery, mist-like material that gathered at her feet and rose in silver threads onto the glossy obsidian walls. Before the triad was a cascading fountain._

_Behind me, I could see my dead body still being crushed against Thranduil's chest. On either side of this image stood two more individuals: a man dressed in blue robes with matching sapphire eyes, and a lady across from him, radiating light so that her features were difficult to describe. All five of the beings resonated great power._

"_Áni apsenë__ (forgive me)," I whispered, recognizing the Valar present as Nienna, __Námo, Vairë, Manwë, and Varda, respectively. "I did not mean insolence."_

_Nienna smiled at me, her eyes full of pity._

"_Many have been the days since the Doom was foretold to your kindred," Námo said, and it was his voice, I now knew, that had called to me earlier. "Dark days you have suffered during your time in Endorenna (Middle-earth), but no longer. You may now be at peace."_

"_Not all were dark, Herunya (Lord) Námo," I replied, attempting not to sound argumentative. "There were times that were sweet, erasing the bitter memories, tiding me over."_

_Vairë caught my gaze, and her eyes twinkled at me._

"_I see that the spirit of your grandsire lives within you still," Manwë stated, turning his head to look at me. "For all your differences from him, you are alike in your pride and how you see yourself. Verily, it appears that the House of Fëanor is not easily defeated."_

_I could not help the pleased smile that formed on my face, and again Vairë's dark eyes sparkled at me from across the hall._

_These conversations were not spoken aloud, but rather were communicated in the usual method of the Valar: through the minds of the participants. Not a single movement was made, excepting for Vairë, whose hands were weaving the Tale of Time. All eyes were focused directly upon me now. It was as if we were all statues, not living entities. Time itself seemed irrelevant. I could have stood there for an eon, or one minute—it did not matter anymore. What mattered was that I was there, in the presence of these gathered, regal Powers._

_The five Valar continued their calculating stares at me. I felt as if I was being judged, as if my very life was being weighed, the good against the bad. A sudden realization came to me, and as I looked back at my lifeless body in Thranduil's arms, I heard Aranel tell him: "She is dead, sire."_

"_Am I dead?" I cried aloud, knowing the answer already but fearing its confirmation._

"_Do you want to be?" Varda said. "I have heard you cry out countless times how sweet the release of death would be from the miseries you have endured."_

_Another flash of eyes sped across the hall, but this from Námo and Manwë, not Vairë. Nienna offered me a look that conveyed understanding, not judgment, which is what I felt from the eyes of the other two Valar._

"_If I am not dead, then where am I? How can I see myself, and yet be here?" I asked._

"_It is the Dream of the Dying that my brother Irmo casts before you pass into Death—if that is your choosing," Námo said. "Your __fëa has been removed from your body. You are between two existences: Life and Death themselves.__"_

_I did not respond, instead mulling over what had just been said to me. It seemed that I was being offered a choice of whether I wanted to continue my life or surrender my fëa to Námo's care. But why would I be given such a choice? No one had ever received such options before. None had escaped the fate of Death. There was no power that could intervene._

_But there was…There were five Powers standing before me, five Powers that appeared to be uniquely considering my demise. And there was a force that could influence them. It was not unheard of, that those who have passed beyond the gates of Endorenna could at times contest their deaths. The greatest story of Endorenna, leading to other feats, centered on this one cogency. It was the one force that drove my own family to do what they did, though they perverted the cause. _

_That influential force—that great, pure cause—was love. Love drove my great-grandsire, Finw__ë,__ to side with F__ë__anor, creating a schism in the Noldor. Love also drove my grandsire F__ë__anor to hunt Morgoth across Arda itself, to avenge his own sire's death and the rape of the Silmarilli. Love is also what caused the sack of Menegroth. Had none of this happened, Arda would have been spared so much grief._

"_I am rather confused," I began, hesitant of how to proceed. "Is it not the order of things that when the __fëa of an edhil__ (elf) passes into the Halls of Mandos, it can either wander the World Houseless, or remain in Mandos? Why am I being offered something different: to either continue my life in Endorenna or stay here in Námo's care?"_

_Námo nodded, saying, "That is the true order of nature, that elven fëar__ are either allowed to wander through the world Houseless, or remain here with me to be judged."_

"_But why the mystery and cryptic answers? __What do you want from me?"_

"_It is not what we want, but rather what you want," Varda said. "Ma hanyalyen (do you understand me)?"_

_I shook my head. "Lá, umin hanya (No, I do not understand)."_

"_Your __fëa desires one thing, while your body desires another. Separating the two will cause damage to your mind, which is already burdened with many worries," Manwë replied slowly. "We care not to further injure you."_

_I swallowed my nervousness, hesitant to inquire further. "And what is it my fëa desires that my body does not?"_

_There was a great silence. All eyes were transfixed upon me in such a manner that it frightened me. Oh, to be stared at thus by the mighty Valar is not for the faint of heart—and I felt mine tremble violently within my chest. My mind was quiet, free of the intruding words of the gathered Valar. We all remained motionless, save for the continued work of __Vairë. Her hands wove faster and faster until my eyes were unable to detect them any longer. Nienna's gaze flickered momentarily._

"_Love…" she whispered._

_It was as if a spell had broken; the Valar stirred, their heads turning towards Nienna._

"_She knows. She is unwilling to accept it, but she knows this to be true," she said, addressing her counterparts, who continued to stare at her._

"_It was a test of her abilities, to see if she could determine herself why we have given her the choice," __Námo said gravely, his voice a faint, deadly hiss. "__You were not permitted to tell her. __Now I am forced to make this decision for her, since you broke—"_

"_Lá…she does know, but she was too afraid to speak it," Vairë said. "It has been Woven into her Tale, and what is Woven is true and has been accomplished by her."_

_All five pairs of eyes were now directed upon me once again. Námo and Manwë gave me critical looks, while the three Valier considered me with kindness._

"_I felt a new spark of Life within me, before you wrested my fëa from my body. I felt it with the kiss Thranduil gave me. He loves me still!" I cried._

"_How do you know it was Thranduil, and not Haldir?" Nienna asked. "You did see the Silvan's face."_

"_Because Thranduil was physically present with me, of course. In my delirium I must have imagined Haldir."_

_I spoke these words hurriedly, trying to cover up my doubt even as I uttered my thoughts aloud. Something was gnawing at me, some small measure of misgiving that I had not been delirious, that another hidden instrument of the Valar was at work._

_The five Valar smiled._

"_Ah, but how many times have you comforted Thranduil from afar, visiting him in his dreams and reveries, providing reenactments of ancient days?" Manwë challenged. "Elves, when bearing a strong connection to their loved ones, can find a way to bond. Even a simple Silvan such as Haldir is capable of this, not just a High Elf such as you. And do not forget the promise that was made to you in the heart of Artanis' realm."_

_These last words struck a chord deep within me, and I knew that my thoughts had been available for all to perceive since my arrival in Mandos—yet it seemed fitting since Mandos is the Hall of Judgment ._

_I was silent now, recalling the time I had spent the night with Haldir, seeking comfort in his strong arms. Had he not told me to go to him whenever I needed? I must have called upon him in the distress of knowing my end was at hand, hoping that he would not abandon me. Indeed, that was what I had done in that instant._

"_Haldir promised to be true to me, swearing should he betray his promise, that the Valar strike him down," I said. "So my fate is tied to his vow?"_

_Vairë beckoned me to come towards her. As I walked halfway across the hall, she rose from her throne and met me by the fountain that stood in the center of the floor. When I reached her side, she rubbed her hands together, then spread her palms apart. The glittery material she was weaving had formed a little mirror, and on its surface I saw two figures. _

_As I looked closer, I noticed that one was me, and the other a blond male. We were walking together through a forest, the trees shining silver and gold. There was green grass, and the woodland creatures had gathered around us. It was the Golden Wood, and the man next to me was Haldir. We wore matching rings on our forefingers. On my face was a look of pure contentment, something I had not felt in centuries._

"_I am to wed Haldir after all..." I said, shocked._

_When I looked up, Vairë was seated again on her throne. It was Nienna who was at my side now, her eyes glistening with tears._

"_You will wed the one who has truly captured your heart and soul," she said._

_I was quiet for what seemed an eternity, unsure of how I felt at this revelation. It was not how I had imagined it, that my husband would be a lowly Silvan. In Valinor, many Noldorin and Telerin princes of great bearing and lineage had sought my hand in marriage. Even in Middle-earth, there had been suitors of comparable status. I was a lady of high nobility and ancestry, a princess of the great Noldorin House of Fëanor. My husband would be of equal bearing, not a commoner! _

_But it was a modest Silvan, a commoner indeed, who had accepted me, while my noble counterpart chose to condemn me based on everything my family had done, refusing to accept or acknowledge my innocence. My pride and prejudice had blinded and betrayed me in the end._

"_It is better to be wholly loved than to love vainly," Nienna whispered. "Remember that. When you despair again, look deep into your own heart, and choose wisely."_

_I looked at her, confused, but she offered no further explanation._

_Nienna stepped back. The other Valar had moved to stand by her. Each Vala looked at me now, a smile on every face. Manwë spoke next, taking Varda's hand._

"_We have watched you suffer from afar, heard your plea for redemption, asking for an end to your torment, beseeching us to bestow forgiveness upon you," he said._

"_The House of Fëanor has been the cause of great trouble," Varda stated. "We were once uncertain of your destiny, but no longer. You have proven to us that not all of the Fëanorians are Doomed, that some have resisted the shadow that befell Fëanor. You have earned our sympathy and pardon. You were never Banned, never Doomed. Your guilt and shame through all these long years are what saved you."_

_My heart swelled inside my chest at these glad tidings. So I had been correct in taking the Eagles' aid upon my return to Eryn Galen from Lothló__rien as a sign of the Valar's pardon! My feet gave way beneath me, and I slid onto the floor. I grabbed Manwë's blue robes and kissed them fiercely. My tears fell thickly down my cheeks. I tried to speak, but no words came from my mouth, only an embarrassing wail of triumph._

"_You still have a choice to make," Nienna said._

"_Either you remain in Endorenna, to be loved and cherished by the man who truly deserves you…." Vairë said._

"_Or you remain here in Valinor, where I shall tend to your fëa, and you will finally be at peace," Námo finished. "You belong where everything is safe and secure. No more strife or turbulence, only stability and consistency. You belong here, __Vanimë Morifinwiel__."_

_Those final words stirred something deep within me, raising to my mind's surface a dream I had long buried. Belonging…that word, that emotion. We spend our whole lives striving for a sense of acceptance. Some achieve this, while others do not. What does belonging really mean? Is it not to be in a place where I feel loved, valued, appreciated; where I feel understood? To be in a place where I can find serenity, where I can be content for the rest of my life—and being an Elda, I am immortal. So where did I, __Vanimë Morifinwiel, truly belong?_

_Was it here in Valinor, the place of my birth, where my mother rejected me for being the daughter of a man she did not truly love or understand? Where she abandoned me and my younger sister to a fate unknown, in the hands of men of great evil? Even though the Valar did not hold me in ill regard, how would the people of Valinor treat me? Could they find it within their hearts to forgive me? Or had all these long years given them cause to obsess over their loss and grief until it utterly consumed them, as with Thranduil? Could I begin a new life again, start from nothing after everything that had come to pass?_

_Or was Middle-earth my true home? That great place of wonder, adventure, excitement, and sorrow—it was as if Middle-earth and I were sisters, sharing in one another's happiness and sadness. There, I have always had people who love me, who know me for all that I truly am, and all that I am not. These are the people who mourned my body as it lay motionless in the arms of the one who has brought me great pain yet much joy. Even now, as my body lay empty as a shell, these people were still paying me their respects. How many others, if they knew, would join the mourners' ranks? I could only imagine what my dear Legolas would feel—and what of Haldir and Artanis?_

_Yet how many times had I prayed for a way out of all my suffering? How easy would it be for me to simply disappear as if nothing had ever happened, as if I had never existed in Middle-earth? Here was my chance now to vanish._

"_I belong where I am loved…." I said, wiping my tears with the back of my hands. "Love is the one factor that you are willing to let me plead for in order to return to my body and life. I know this, but as Nienna and Vairë said, I would not allow myself to believe it. This is why I am being offered a choice—how else can I be different from any other Elf? But I am different—because I have your love._

_"I have your love because of the Silmarilli, those beautiful, accursed, hallowed jewels that my grandsire Fëanor created. I rue the day he conceived them within his thoughts—oh how much pain and grief would have been spared by so many over so many eons! How can something so remarkable cause so much grief and strife? How can love be perverted into something vile? It can—when love turns into possession. _

"_It pains you greatly that my grandsire's most beautiful legacy is also his deadliest. You searched for something, some small semblance of proof that his line was not all corrupted, for how can the creator of magnificence be dissolute? Then you found me: all alone, lost, forgotten even by the world itself. You found me, and loved me for what I am not. You found within me the innocence and purity that you desperately sought in Fëanor._

"_Is love not the one quality that has brought so much joy and so much despair, not only to the edain (men) and edhil (elves), but also to you, the Valar? You have watched Arda flower and then diminish; you have poured out your love for it by defending it. You still __defend it—your love for me was evident when you sent the Eagles to my rescue after I was poisoned, journeying to save the realm of Thranduil out of love. It was also for love—yet of a different kind—that L__ú__thien Tin__ú__viel forsook her immortal life to be with an adan (mortal), Beren._

"_What I have learned about love is this: l__ove is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. And this is what you have given me with all of your might and power."_

_Námo smiled, holding his arms out to me, welcoming me. Nienna looked soberly at me. I paused for a few minutes, gathering my courage, searching myself for what I really believed in, for what I had to say:_

"_Since my arrival in Endorenna, my greatest wish was to return home to dance and sing in Tirion, in my father's great mansion. I missed the great honor that my lineage afforded me. Yet when I reflect deeply, I find nothing here for me. My mother abandoned me; she did not care about my fate. She was never strong enough for my father, nor was she strong enough for my sister and me. My grandsire scarred this most blessed realm in such a manner that I cannot bear the shame and guilt his actions have caused. I cannot hope to find peace here._

"_I belong in Endorenna because that is where my love lies," I continued, causing the __Valar, excepting Nienna, to furrow their brows. "My heart belongs in a place of mystery and excitement, not in the stable pursuits of Valinor. I no longer belong to this land; I am not the same __Vanimë I once was. __I crave challenge. I crave to be loved by someone who truly values me, who understands and appreciates all that I have endured. That man is in Endorenna. So I choose to remain there, until the End of Time."_

_Vairë smiled faintly._

_Námo stepped forward, his dark eyes searching deep into my soul. "Your wish is granted, with the condition of no longer being able to return to Aman."_

_I nodded in acceptance of this term, saying, "To be with my true love is enough for me. That is all I have ever wanted, to spend the rest of eternity in the arms of my beloved."_

_As I turned to face the remaining Valar, I heard __Námo address my grandsire Fëanor, and with a pang I realized that he was locked away in Mandos:_

"_What a pity that after many Ages, the effects of your Oath bear such hardship on your own family. Of your entire family, she has proven worthy of her Noldorin heritage, and has fought to regain honor for her family. Let it be known that those who remain of your line shall be Dispossessed no longer."_


	14. Morifinwiel's Return

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers:** Another drumroll please for this chapter! Since returning from my international trip I have been slammed with work and other events. Today is actually my birthday—this is my gift to you! At any rate, the usual: anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. The Quenyan lyrics for the selection from _Into the West_ taken from elvish-org-gwaith-tothewest-htm (each - being a DOT; website address). Elvish words from _The Council of Elrond_ website. Artanis is Galadriel's true name in Noldorin. As always, please read and REVIEW!

**Morifinwiel's Return**

_As Námo spoke, I felt hot tears falling from my eyes. I recalled my grandsire Fëanor in all his glory as Prince of the Noldor: standing tall against the glow of his furnace, dark hair framing his face, gray eyes alight with the pride of his work. He took such pleasure and delight from his tireless smithy work, constructing many things. Fëanor would teach me his craft, pleased I took interest in his work. I was happy he was proud of me. I adored and worshipped him as an elfling, loved him for his fierce spirit and pride. He was not afraid of anyone or anything._

_Lady Nerdanel was always there in his smithy, working alongside him. I often stole away to watch them at work and to observe their relationship. They were always together, content with each other's company. They did not have to speak; just to be in one another's presence was enough for them. At times my grandsire would feign complete focus on his work, but his gaze would be fixed upon his wife. His eyes would light up whenever she turned to face him, and her breath would catch in her throat when their eyes met. Even Beren and Lúthien's love does not compare to what my grandparents had._

_I have wanted Fëanor and Nerdanel's passion and devotion in a relationship for as long as I can remember. It is what I felt towards Thranduil, what I hoped he would reciprocate. We did share that...until he learned of my true heritage._

_Perhaps I am not so very different from my mother. Unlike me, she did not lie: she ceased to believe in herself or anyone else...Yet who am I to judge? I am the liar. At least she did not betray my father's trust like I betrayed Thranduil's faith in me. In this I am like my father and grandsire—we all share a habit of reaching our goals through devious methods. The sins of my parents passed onto me, and I judged them harshly for their actions—only to repeat them myself..._

_Námo's stern gaze brought me out of my reverie. I had not thought much of Fëanor since hearing of his death thousands of years ago, and when I did, my emotions were torn between hate and love. However, as the sweet memories of old rushed back, I felt a slight pang of sadness that someone as free-spirited as he was now locked away like a feral beast-despite knowing that he was there for a valid reason._

_"Nanyë nyérinqua (I am sad)...," I whispered to my grandsire, echoing Námo as I addressed him from afar, causing the Valar to stare at me once more. "The fire of your spirit ravished your wisdom, blinded you from the correct path. I fear that I will never be able to have new, sweet memories of you. My thoughts about you of late have only borne ill will, but now I pity you slightly. It seems that I am like you: we are destined to follow our passions, and in doing so we become blinded by our desires. We stop at nothing to gain what we want. This passionate drive of our fear has led to your downfall and mine..._

_"But your legacy of creating beautiful masterpieces must live on. I shall return to Endorenna to prove that the strength of our great and noble Noldorin House—the House of Fëanor—is not easily overcome. It was we Noldor who built the greatest cities in Endorenna, just as we built the greatest cities in Valinor. I will ensure that our heritage continues through me. Our traditions will not die so long as I live._

_"Forevermore when I recall you, I will think of the joyous times we shared in your smithy. I will recall fondly your handsome face, your the tall stance, and the proud manner in which you conducted yourself. Tenn' omentielva enta (until our next meeting)!"_

_The Valar continued staring at me as if I had forgotten something. Images of my mother swam before my eyes, and I felt as if the Valar had willed them upon me._

_"Mother...I cannot pretend that your abandonment has not affected me, that it has not made me hate you with vivid fierceness," I began, speaking aloud very slowly. "I did hate you...at first. But now I realize that you were simply naive. You fell in love with the idea of being wedded to a Fëanorian without realizing the cost that you would pay. You sought the glory and prestige of being the wife of a Fëanorian without considering their fierceness, wrought by the passion of following their hearts and pride. I do not think you were ever truly in love with Father._

_"When you realized this, it was far too late, so you withdrew from your daughters because we reminded you of your union to a man you did not fully love and understand. The thought of returning home and confessing what you had done—marrying a man out of false ambition and then abandoning your daughters out of weakness and shame-was too much for you to bear, so you isolated yourself._

_"It seems that for all my likeness to my father and grandsire, this is the one trait that I inherited from you: a blindness of the heart. I truly believed that Thranduil would forgive me for deceiving him about my past. I did not appreciate his feelings, his pride. And now here I am, ruined, because I fell in love with the idea of being in love with him. It is my curse, my burden to bear._

_"But I lie to myself! Melinyel, Thranduil (I love you, Thranduil)! I love your pride, your arrogance, the manner in which you conduct yourself. You exude power and authority in a way similar to my kin. I will not deny that the Noldor, particularly the Fëanorians, have always commanded and expected reverence from and sovereignty over others in all aspects of their lives. This is what I am, and what I crave in my spouse._

_"As harsh and dominating as Thranduil may seem to the world, to those he loves, he is truly tender, kind, and loyal. The days I spent with him were my happiest...he was my Fëanor, and I felt like his Lady Nerdanel—for it is their love that I have always coveted and yearned for myself. But for my own arrogance, I would be at Thranduil's side now..._

_"Mother, Vanië does not bode well on the hither shores. She is like you: of gentle nature and soft constitution. Her spirit lies in peace and tranquility. Vanië must return to you, for she will be a great comfort._

_"She and I have had a great falling out; I have not been there for her like I should have, have not cared for her like she needed. Vanië reminds me of you with her constant brooding—and so I abandoned her like you did us. Perhaps indeed I am not so very different from you after all!_

_"Sadly, I cannot return to Valinor, to you, to my birthplace, for many reasons. The most important of them is that I do not feel a connection to Valinor like I once did. Your abandonment accounts for part of these feelings, as well as my shame and guilt over the Kinslaying. When Vanië returns to you, I will have her explain everything by showing you my enchanted journal. Though I long ago dreamed of coming back to my first home, it is no longer suitable for me. There is no life for me in the Blessed Realm. I do not expect you to understand or appreciate why; I just need you to accept this decree of fate. I sincerely hope that you have found peace at last."_

_No sooner had I finished bidding farewell to my mother than I felt hot tears on my cheeks. My mother's face flashed before me, with her innocent eyes and the silk-soft blonde hair I had envied since I was an elfling. I felt a surge of intense grief and knew that my message had been relayed to her. I was now ready to return to my body._

_"I am ready now," I stated aloud to the Valar._

_The image of Mandos and the gathered Valar before me was starting to fade. It was Manwë's voice that I heard last:_

_"Go now, child, and return to the land that you love. Know that I will continue to watch over you. Return to your body in peace, and with all of our blessings. May you find that which you truly desire and deserve. Namarië, Vanimë Morifinwiel."_

_Námo's abode began to disappear before my eyes. First, the edges of the hall dwindled slowly until all I could see were the five Valar. Before, I could see their faces clearly, but now all that was visible were five figures shrouded in mist. A faint aura of light emanated from each of them, and I could still feel their power enveloping me._

_I had heard stories of mortals who had been summoned to Mandos, and upon seeing the Valar, only came upon veiled figures of light. Had I now become like these Atani (Men)? Was I no longer afforded the honor of seeing the Valar since I had decided to remain in Endorenna? Was I now banned from all connections to my home, including beholding the Valar as I once did?_

_Then there was a flash of light so bright that all I could see was white before me. A chill gradually poured into me, starting from my head and slowly creeping down into my toes. The cold was so intense it reminded me of the Helcaraxë. Was I meant to cross it once more, my final proof to the Valar that I truly intended to stay in Endorenna? fëar gripped me then, as I knew that I would not be able to find my way through the icy, treacherous pass alone. I would roam the Helcaraxë until Time ended, just as my grandsire was meant to stay in Mandos. The sins of my fathers were upon me. The Valar were testing me one final time._

_The white light began to dissipate slowly. Through the rays of light I imagined a figure standing ahead of me. As my eyes began to focus, I realized that there was indeed someone present. Golden hair and a shimmering white gown—Lady Galadriel was waiting for me. She held a harp and was singing the same song that Nienna had sung:_

_"A Caita carelya ammelda ar moiana (Lay down your sweet and weary head)_

_Lanta i lómë, utúlielyë tiëo mettanna (Night is falling; you have to come to journey's end)_

_A lorë si, ar óla len i epë tuller (Sleep now and dream of the ones who came before)_

_Entë yaitar hrestallo pella (They are calling from across a distant shore) _

_"Man cenilyë eccaianna? (What can you see on the horizon?)  
>Manen i maiwi ninqui yaitar? (Why do the white gulls call?)<em>  
><em>Arta i Eär Isil néca amorta (Across the sea a pale moon rises)<br>Ciryar utúlier an yulu le márelya (The ships have come to carry you home)  
>Rómen ahyuva ve hyellë telpina(And all will turn to silver glass)<br>i cála nenissë, ilyë fëar autar (A light on the water, all souls pass)_

_"I Estel vinta ambarenna lómëo (Hope fades into the world of night)  
>Ter fuini lantala, pella enyalië ar lúmë (Through shadows falling out of memory and time)<br>Áva quetë: "Si utúlielwë mettanna" (Do not say: "We have come now to the end")  
>Hresta ninquë yáma, elyë ar inyë ata ómentuvalwë (White shores are calling, you and I will meet again)"<em>

_"Artanis, what brings you...wherever we are?" I said, rising slowly and shakily to my feet._

_She did not respond immediately. She placed the harp on the grass beside her. In several bounds she had cleared the distance between us and wrapped her strong arms around my waist. She then helped me reach an ornately carved stone bench and eased me into a sitting position on it._

_"Oh, my dear, it is wonderful that you have returned!" she said, smiling through silver tears._

_I was confused, unsure of where we were, though our surroundings looked vaguely familiar to me. The white light had gone away, and I found myself sitting in a forest. Galadriel still did not answer me, instead fussing over my hair. Again, I asked:_

_"Artanis, where are we?"_

_The slight sharpness of my voice caught her attention._

_"Do you not recognize this place?" she asked._

_I looked around more carefully at the lush, green clearing. Birds sang and flitted through the trees. Small animals scurried about; one tiny brown rabbit stopped and sniffed curiously at us before continuing on its way. Its delicate pink nose crinkled as it sniffed, bright eyes watching us carefully. I sensed an aura of hidden authority, of concealment almost: there was great magic and power here._

_"It cannot be...this place was destroyed eons ago..." I whispered, not daring to believe what I felt so strongly in my heart._

_"Do you doubt your own memory of this place you treasure so dearly?" Galadriel said, her fingers deftly twisting my unruly hair into a braid._

_"Doriath no longer exists! This is unreal!"_

_"Your mind and heart have not forgotten Doriath; you see through them now that which you miss most. This is as real as when you are fully awake. You have been through much, and were granted your wish. Your body is resting; your mind is providing a calm environment to restore vitality to it. When we rest, unlike mortals, our minds lie in waking dreams. Your body, in an attempt to regain its former strength, has been forced into a dream-state in order to heal. Do not fight this, Vanimë. Relax...Ease your fëa (spirit)."_

_As Galadriel spoke, I allowed myself to become calm. Her last sentence surprised me, however, so I turned to face her._

_Her face, though ageless, was not as radiant as I recalled. To mortals, the subtle differences would be undetectable, but to the edhil (elves) they were noticeable. Her eyes gave away how weary she was. For one rare, unguarded moment, I was able to clearly evaluate just how exhausted and worn out she was-yet in the next instant it was gone. Galadriel's protective wall had gone back up again._

_How could she have known what had happened to me? I was in Mandos, a place removed from the reaches and thoughts of all who live._

_"Is there naught that you do not know?" I asked. "Is nothing secret from you?"_

_Galadriel smiled then, a calculated smile that relayed a great sense of pride._

_"I have been afforded a wealth of knowledge that others cannot hope to gain," she replied slowly. "But for this situation, what helped me was the connection I feel to you. As you struggled in fëa (spirit) and hroa (body), your fëa called out to those you hold dear. Thus I was able to discern much through your thoughts and emotions."_

_"Tell me, did I make the right choice? What would you have done?" I implored her._

_Galadriel's hands faltered as she finished braiding my hair. The light returned to her eyes, and once more I felt the divide fall away from her thoughts. I was able to perceive her mind again. There was a great sadness and longing for Valinor, her home. Her heart had grown heavy with the cares of the Galadhrim, the centuries of strife to keep evil at bay. She wanted to go back West, to Valinor, to rest and seek peace. She no longer sought to rule, to have her own dominion. Her only fear was the Valar's opinion of her: whether or not they would grant her pardon and clemency to return home._

_"There is no right or wrong choice in this case, my dear. There is only what is best for you," she said. "You cannot compare yourself with me. We are so very different. You have suffered tragedies and hardships far worse than mine. You were forced to journey here; you had no free will in the matter. Both of your parents left you and your sister, Vanië, to fend for yourselves. You had to look after her, as well as yourself, which was no easy task. Creating new lives to bury your shameful past must have been terrible. It is no wonder that you have desired to be loved, to have stability for once. But alas, even love has proven detrimental for you. I cannot imagine what I would have done..."_

_"You would have been truthful; you would not have let pride and deceit be your ruin," I replied._

_Galadriel laughed, laughed until her entire body shook from her laughter. I had not see her in such a state for countless years. Her eyes glowed with happiness as she spoke to me:_

_"My dear Vanimë, do you forget that I am a Noldo like you? I have my pride, the pride of being a Noldo. It is within our very nature; it is something that we cannot hide. From the moment we are born, we Noldo elflings are taught to honor our heritage, to not let fear dominate our hearts. We defend our nobility and lineage with such fierceness that to those who do not know us, we appear harsh and unkind-but it is only the passion of our blood that drives us so. Our kin, yours particularly, have created marvelous wonders that are still revered and spoken highly of to this day. Being a Noldo is a fortuitous privilege not bestowed upon all._

_"There is no shame in declaring your ancestry. What you did wrong was to lie to Thranduil for so long about your real nature. You knew deep within your soul that he would react negatively when he found out the truth about you-but you were torn between preserving those blissful moments with him and the risk of losing him forever. The fact that you lied about being Noldorin is the very reason you find yourself where you are now. Had Thranduil not felt threatened by you as he clung to the past, events would have turned out very differently. Of this I am certain. Alas, though, Eru has willed what He has willed to pass. Verily, He lets nothing pass that is without purpose. Trust in Him."_

_I was quiet for a few moments before saying, "There are times when I feel alone, as if no one is able to understand me, and that despite everything I have done, Thranduil is the only one who will ever appreciate me."_

_Galadriel did not answer for several minutes, and her silence was eerie and haunting. I felt that she was hesitant about revealing something to me. Finally, she spoke:_

_"At times I feel distant from my husband because I am a Noldo, but I know that he loves me...Sometimes, though, I wonder what he truly thinks...Finding someone you are comfortable with and who appreciates you is not easy: I myself was fortunate to have met my Lord...But do not worry yourself with me! Focus on healing!" Galadriel said, patting my hands gently. I felt honored to have seen a vulnerable side of her._

_She paused for a few moments before resuming, closing her mind from me at last:_

_"I understand why you chose to remain in Endorenna. Perhaps you have endured more than others; perhaps you have more guilt and shame than others-or perhaps these things are only your perception. In the end, you must choose what will make you whole."_

_She stepped away from me then, looking me over, before giving a little nod as if satisfied. She motioned for me to stand next to a small pool of water. Confused yet again, I followed her directions._

_"We Eldar are meant to endure until Time ends. Otherwise we fade and diminish. You have done this; you have begun to fade. Now you must stop-stop punishing yourself for what is past, what you could not and cannot control. There is nothing for you to prove; the Valar have pardoned and blessed you. You must return to Life."_

_With her finals words, the pool shimmered around my image. A light I had not seen since leaving Valinor emanated around me. I felt less weighted down by my troubles, freer._

_"The Vanimë I know is full of songs and laughter, dances under moon and starlight. She delights all she meets, dazzles the hearts of men, and her desires know no boundaries. She is as proud as she is kind, as mirthful as she is serious. She is a true Fëanorian, Noldorin princess. She deserves to be her true self without fear," Galadriel said. "Vanimë, let go of Amorith. She has served you well in your time of need, but she cannot continue to exist. If you must access her, do so only when necessary. Amorith is not your true self, Vanimë Morifinwiel."_

_The pool's surface rippled violently. My image twisted and turned several times before the water stood still again. When I finally looked down, anxious of what I would discover, the reflection staring back at me was one I had not seen in centuries: a softer countenance with hidden pride and bright, shining eyes; most importantly, the Light of Aman was issuing from my face—the Two Trees' Light._

_"Essenya Vanimë Morifinwiel (Vanimë Morifinwiel is my name)," I said, using the words of my mother tongue. "I have come back to be with the one I truly love, the one who deserves me. The Valar have pardoned me. I have nothing to be ashamed of, save that I have denied myself true happiness for many years. But no longer."_

_The Lady of Light was quiet, looking at me with a sad half-smile. Taking both my hands in hers, she clasped them tightly._

_"Vanimë, I must caution you to be wary with your heart and with the promises you make to yourself and others. Though we all crave love, it is best to be with the one who loves you completely. Do not aspire for love so desperately that you give yourself to anyone who is seeking you. Doing so means that you will waste all of Time trying to be a man's beloved, trying to achieve his dreams, but failing because you have altered yourself beyond recall. You are a Noldo—the one who loves you must not dampen your fëa. Remember that well when the time comes."_

_Then, just as mysteriously as she had come, Galadriel vanished, leaving me to ponder her words, echoing Nienna's final statement to me: "You will wed the one who has truly captured your heart and soul." _


	15. Sleep

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers:** Another drumroll please for this chapter! Sincerest apologies for the usual delay. At any rate, the usual: anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Elvish words from _The Council of Elrond_ website; they are mainly Quenyan except for a few well-known phrases. I took some liberty with Celebrían; what happened to her in Middle-earth is Tolkien's work-what happened to her in Valinor is mine. Numerous thanks to my beta Crackers for all her hard work and patience with me! As always, please read and REVIEW!

**Sleep**

Nolwi let out a piercing cry. Her hands began to tremble violently, her grip loosening on Vanimë's journal. The book slipped from her hands, landing at the edge of the pond. She hugged herself tightly and began rocking back and forth. The clearing went deadly silent, unnerving Arqueno to no end as he sat beside his distraught wife.

Nolwi felt as if her heart had been torn out of her chest. Her stomach was tense. Breathing became a chore; as her respiratory rate increased, Her chest was also tightening, causing her to panic even more. A wave of hot, nauseous fire overcame her, and she clasped her hands to her mouth—but to no use. The anxiety and distress poured outward from within her, spilling onto the gleaming grass in a molten, torrential shower.

So upset at what she had just found out—that Vanimë chose to remain in Middle-earth—Nolwi was creating this state of disequilibrium in her body and _fëa_. She felt herself sliding off the stone bench where she had been sitting and onto the ground.

"_Ai_, Valar, please take me! I cannot bear this pain, this anguish! My daughter has for all purposes disowned me!" Nolwi cried out in anger, between bouts of heaves.

Arqueno knelt beside his wife as she lay on the grass, holding her flaxen hair back away from her face. As soon as she had begun emptying her stomach of its contents, he had called for Celebrían. She came swiftly, long golden-silver hair framing her silver-blue eyes, which were filled with concern at the sight of Nolwi. The Sindarin-Noldorin lady called to her assistants for help, who came rushing towards the trio.

Arqueno found the handmaidens ushering him away from his hysterical wife to the edge of the pond with the book that was the cause of Nolwi's recent calamity. The Teler found his gaze drawn to the journal suddenly, as if its pages were trying to convey a message, an apology. He reached down to pick it up and hid it within his robes—something told him to do so.

"You must finish the tale now…" a faint voice came to him from the book. "She will refuse to hear anymore…but in time you will tell her all…"

Nolwi's frantic, shrill cries roused him out of this strange encounter.

"Arqueno…._Manna lendelyë_ (Where did you go)? _Á tulë sinomenna_ (Come here)! I need you here at my side! Arqueno!"

Trying to gather his thoughts and regain his composure, Arqueno strode evenly to his wife, who was now reseated on the bench. He realized then that both he and Nolwi had been absorbed in Vanimë's journal for several months. Knowing Nolwi's fragile state, it was surprising and comforting that she had not broken down sooner. She had been through so much; she needed time to rest. In good conscience, he could not let her continue on. As this thought crossed his mind, Celebrían nodded.

Arqueno sat beside his wife, a comforting smile on his face. He placed her head on his chest, over his heart, and wrapped his arms around her tightly.

"_Nanyë sinomë, melmenya_ (I am here, my love). Calm yourself," Arqueno said slowly.

Nolwi was sitting on the bench with a handmaiden on either side of her, while Celebrían knelt directly in front of her, directing her to ease her rapid breathing.

"_Herunya_ (My lord), _herinya_ (my lady) cannot remain here. She needs to rest. I will have her brought to the healing gardens," Celebrían said, eyes still full of concern.

Arqueno nodded, looking at his wife. Nolwi's skin had taken on a pallor that was not healthy; though she had stopped heaving, and her breathing had become more even, she was still shaking, and her skin felt cool and clammy. Her eyes were dull.

"I will carry her to the gardens, Lady Celebrían, if you will be kind enough to lead me there," Arqueno said, nodding his consent. "I fear that I must trouble you further, and request that someone tend to my wife until she is feeling well again."

"I assure you, Lord Arqueno, your request is no trouble. The Gardens of Lórien are meant to be a place of healing. This is why you came, why you were sent. It is all a part of your journey, your quest for the truth about Vanimë—but most importantly this is about reconciliation between you and your wife," the Lady of Rivendell said. "There is no better place in Arda for Nolwi than here."

Nolwi raised her head as her husband bent to take her into his arms. She nestled against his chest as he straightened up, feeling secure in his strong embrace. Her ears picked up the rhythm of his heartbeat, synchronized with each step he took, and she felt her mind relax as her body eased into submission. Arqueno's humming also helped her to quiet her.

Tears of both sadness and anger began to flow as the realization that she would never see Vanimë again sank in. The Teler mother felt betrayed by her Noldo daughter, felt that Vanimë owed her allegiance, a glorious return home that would make Nolwi feel whole, something that would vindicate all the misery she had suffered at the hands of Morifinwë. More importantly, Nolwi felt that the most fundamental allegiance of —the entire sacred bond between mother and daughter—was severed, and that she could not find it within herself to forgive.

"We are almost there," Arqueno whispered, careful not to drop his wife as he followed after Celebrían. "Do not cry."

As Arqueno walked carefully with Nolwi in his arms, his eyes were drawn to the beauty of Lórien all around him. The sound of flutes and light, airy music came to him from everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Nightingales flitted about lazily or sang from nearby branches. Fountains of water bubbled softly in the background, around which were gathered many people, some elven, some not. But it was the numerous pools that captured his gaze the most.

Glittering silver lakes and ponds were scattered throughout the pristine emerald grass as far as his elven vision would allow, the same ones he had seen when first entering Lórien. He had been unable to appreciate their vastness until now that he was closer to them. They were so large that to Arqueno it seemed that endless small inland seas surrounded him. White swans swam gracefully across their surfaces, hardly making any waves. On the banks of each pool or lake stood daises covered with layers of sheer material, so that only vaguely could one peer into them.

Beside the centermost and largest lake stood a grand dais built out of living, interlocking willows. The trees were so tall they seemed to reach right into the sky above, blocking view of the rest of Lórien. A living staircase made of the interwoven branches led to this dais, which rose about the height of a grown Elf. It was here that Celebrían led Arqueno and Nolwi.

"Arqueno and Nolwi, I present you into the audience of the Lord and Lady of Lórien themselves, the Valar Irmo and Estë," Celebrían said, bowing her head and moving into the nearest corner of the dais.

Arqueno sank into a bow, almost dropping Nolwi in doing so, but setting her gently on her feet.

"Rise," the Valar both said in unison, their voices soft and full of consolation.

They did not speak aloud, preferring to let their thoughts be heard within the Teleri's minds. Estë, who had been lying on a silver chaise, rose slowly to her feet. Irmo remained seated on the dais floor beside his spouse's chaise, eyes closed as if in deep contemplation. Both were clothed in gray and carried a restful, comforting presence. They seemed to be gauging the couple standing before them.

Nolwi appeared to calm down as soon as she entered the presence of the Lord and Lady of Lórien. The two Valar turned towards her, Irmo with his eyes still closed. Estë held out her hand towards her, and a sudden chill ran down Arqueno's spine. He feared for Nolwi as she accepted the Lady's offer and was led away from him, wordlessly, without even a glance. Celebrían placed her hand on his arm to stop him from following.

"Let her go…this is her choice…this is what she desires," the Lady of Imladris said.

"I am worried about her. This is how she behaved when she left…him…" Arqueno whispered, too afraid to state the name out loud. "She disappeared into herself. Please, you must not let her do it again. She should not be allowed to succumb to her wishes. She is my wife. I fear if she does, there will be no power that can return her."  
>Celebrían noticed the anxiety etched into Arqueno's fair face. He had hid it well in the presence of his wife, but now he was wringing his hands and twisting the sides of his robes. His eyes, misty with unshed tears, were half-hidden under his long silver locks. There was a slight thud as Vanimë's journal fell to the floor.<p>

"I know how frightening this is for you, to see Nolwi cycle through darkness once more," Celebrían said. "But I promise you that this time will not be like the first; you are here in Lórien, and we will not let her vanish within herself. You must understand that her search for the truth has forced her to accept reality; her body could not endure the stress her mind was undergoing. So she must rest. What caused her to become so distraught should be removed from her presence immediately. She seems to have suffered quite a significant shock to her _fëa_. She will need some time to rest. She must not be rushed through this."

The last sentence caught Arqueno's attention.

"I agree that she does need time to rest, but I will not allow her all the time she wants. It is never healthy to wallow in pain, to let it consume one's soul. I will allow her a fortnight only, no more than that. It is what is best for her," he stated, remembering Lainanu's words. "It is time she has boundaries set for her. She cannot be allowed to ruin herself and her life—except that her life is not entirely her own: she is my wife. And before that she was a mother. I think she has ignored the fact that her life has not been her private domain since her first marriage. It is time she is reminded of this…"

Celebrían was quiet as the Telerin lord spoke, taken aback at the manner in which he took charge. It seemed at first that he was being insensitive to his wife's current dilemma by setting limits, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. When Nolwi had abandoned her daughters in Alqualondë the night of the Kinslaying and fled to her parents' home, she had drowned herself in all her woes. Her parents, afraid to cause more trauma to their already distraught daughter, left her to her own devices.

All Nolwi now had to link her back to the world was Arqueno, her loyal husband, who had loved her from when she was an elfling. And Arqueno was not willing to allow Nolwi to plunge him and herself back into the depths of darkness.

Irmo's eyes snapped open then, and Arqueno inhaled deeply, taken aback. He had forgotten about the Vala. But there was something else that startled him: his eyes. Unlike the other Valar, whose eyes were gray, Irmo's were a mixture of bluish, sea-gray, and slate-gray coloring. They were also clouded, and the longer Arqueno stared into them, the more entranced he felt, as if he could enter the world of dreams simply by staring into the Vala's eyes.

Celebrían began to speak then, but Irmo held his hands up. "He would not understand, my dear; spare yourself the pain," he said aloud, puzzling Arqueno. "Go and see that Lady Nolwi is settled and comfortable as she sleeps."

Celebrían bowed her head, a hurt look on her face as she went to tend to Nolwi.

"Those words you spoke, about boundaries, soul-consuming pain, and private lives, are strong. They surprise me, coming from a Teler, from you especially," Irmo said once Celebrían had left them. "Strong words, but wise…"

"Thank you, my lord..." Arqueno whispered, averting his gaze from Irmo. "Truly, it is not the way of the Teleri to fight...we give in to whatever woes the world might throw at us. We open our fëar to pain and let it consume us. My wife has done this countless times; it has taken a toll on me. I love her dearly, but I cannot let myself be dragged down into her nightmares again. I am weary from the eons of pain she has endured, eons that I inadvertently had to endure with her."

Arqueno was flattered by Irmo's compliment to his strength, but he was not arrogant. He would not let this moment pass without giving thanks where it was truly due:

"I cannot accept the credit for those words, though. Lainanu, my groundskeeper, is the one you should be praising, not me. He has taught me so much. To think that only a few months ago I was holding onto such rage, anger, and blindness of the heart and soul…It took a lowly groundskeeper from Middle-earth to ground me, to teach me the error of my ways. He has shown me how wrong it is to obsess over things that cannot be changed, and the need for lessons to be learned from calamity, for growth as a result of atrocity. He was correct when he said that we in Valinor have shrouded ourselves in the Kinslaying, thinking that only our pain is real. There are others who have suffered far worse tragedies and are much more centered than we. That is what I am trying to do—center my wife and myself. That is what Lainanu has taught me, what I am trying to accomplish now."

Irmo did not respond for a long time. Shadows waxed and waned many times over on the great lawns before the majestic lake, which Arqueno now realized was called Lórellin. Had Arqueno been mortal, he would have felt this length of time take a toll on him. Yet, being elven and in the Gardens of Irmo, he was immune to these effects.

"Judgment has been passed. Listen well. Your wife, Nolwi, shall emerge from these Gardens unmarred, renewed in mind and body. Your resolution will have no affect on this—we have already stood here a fortnight and her restorative sleep is only beginning. It is by Eru's power that this shall occur…and by her resolve…her resolve, which is strengthened by your bond. She has accepted her past mistakes and will now resolve her inner turmoil. Her path lies in rest now. Yours is to finish the journey you began, to end your remaining prejudices."

Arqueno felt these words penetrate his mind as if from a great void. His eyes beheld a star-studded blackness before him as the forms of Námo, Manwë, and Irmo floated nearby. Vairë loomed in the distance, hands spinning fast the Tale of the World. The Teler's body felt weightless, drifting, as if through Time itself.

When he came to, Arqueno found himself lying on Estë's chaise. Several beings floated nearby, and he knew that these Maiar had tended and looked after him as he slept. Lord Irmo and Lady Estë were nowhere to be found.

"The Sleep of Restoration does you well, Lord Arqueno."

It was Celebrían. She stood in the same corner as before, when she had brought Arqueno and Nolwi to meet her hosts.

"_Hantanyel_ (thank you)," Arqueno said, getting to his feet. "I do feel whole…if that makes sense."

Celebrían nodded.

"Indeed it does. You have slept for a fortnight, allowing your mind to be at ease while your body regained its former state of balance. Now you are ready for the final steps of your journey," she replied. "First, I have been given permission to let you see Nolwi. You will not be able to speak with her nor touch her, only to gaze at her from afar. Should you interfere with her Sleep, she will not return as Lord Irmo promised."

Arqueno nodded mutely, once again following the Sindarin-Noldorin lady. She led him down from the dais and onto a path of flower petals. He detected a faint aroma of jasmine in the air as he stepped on the fallen blossoms. Looking up he noticed the flowers looping around the willows' trunks. Round and round the willows this petal-strewn path snaked, until at long last a grand dais appeared. Its walls were made of emeralds and crystals, and its roof of pure gold. They were deep in the heart of Lórien, on the isle of Lórellin. In the midst of the dais was a gleaming pearl bed. Three figures—Irmo, Estë, and Nerdanel—were gathered around it, each at a corner, their gazes directed towards the sleeping woman.

"Nolwi…" Arqueno croaked. "She looks…dead…"

"Not dead, sleeping, the Restorative Sleep—just like yours, only hers will be lengthier and more intense. Your wounds were shallower," Celebrían gently explained. "She will need more tending to, more watchers as she rests and recuperates."

Arqueno took a step closer, but Celebrían held her hand up, and he felt himself restrained. "She senses your presence, and it troubles her. Let her be," she said.

Another hand wave from Celebrían and the dais had vanished. Arqueno found himself seated once more across from the seeing basin where he and his wife had been before she became hysterical. This time, though, he was alone with Celebrían.

"It is a curious matter, the way the world is woven together, and how actions encircle each other. Míriel, Fëanor's mother, lay in the same place your wife lays, only her sleep was disrupted and so she never awoke. You sought revenge against the Fëanorians, yet here you are because you believe in the innocence of one. Valinor isolated itself from the rest of Arda, yet it is inadvertently ruled by Middle-earth's woes through the Kinslaying and those who return to its shores from across the Sea. Many times it is the very thing we strive to deny or not understand that haunts us, and so it is here as well, if not more so, than in the great land whence I came.

"You think it is mere chance that I, the daughter of Artanis, am here with you now? Nothing is by chance, Lord Arqueno. I have met your wife's daughter. She was a great joy to me, helped me to understand the difficult and loftier nature of my mother, and shared with me all she loved about Valinor and its traditions. There was never a more proud woman of Valinor than Vanimë, never a more loyal and pure soul. All the Time in Arda would not suffice to speak of her virtues, nor of the pain she suffered.

"Before one passes judgment on another, one must be free of sins. I think you have begun to realize this," Celebrían said. "You condemned Vanimë to a cursed life before knowing what she has suffered; you blindly hated without knowledge. You also attempt to rush Nolwi's restoration without stopping to consider the full depth and breadth of her situation."

This last sentence she said with a small amount of venom in her voice.

"Before I leave to return to watching your wife and to let you finish Vanimë's tale, there is one other matter I wish to settle with you. When you said that Nolwi needed boundaries, to be reminded that her life was not her own, that she was a wife and mother first, it reminded me of my own story.

"I came here because I was violated in a most ruthless and vile manner. My husband, Lord Elrond, whom I love dearly, is a renowned healer in Imladris—nay, in all of Middle-earth! He sought to hasten my recovery by reminding me of these same duties. I know that both you and my husband did not intend anything malicious in hastening our recoveries, respectively, but there are times when wounds are so deep that time cannot heal them. Any attempt to hasten their recovery is detrimental—think of Lady Míriel.

"It has already been granted that Nolwi shall recover, but you must let her do so at her own pace. If time is the gift of us Elves, then what is your hurry? You are in Valinor, the hallowed land of peace. Do not be impatient. You are a Teler, not a Noldo after all! We shall not meet again, Arqueno of Alqualondë. I bid you farewell."

Celebrían vanished with her last word, leaving Arqueno alone in the clearing with the seeing basin before him. What Celebrían had said to him sank into his soul like a weight, and he felt some guilt. He truly intended no harm to his wife, only wished her not to become lost in the void of her pain…

Yet Nolwi was to be free! Eru, the One himself, had allowed this beautiful miracle to be. It seemed fitting, given the nature of the matter. Nolwi was to be saved from herself, to be given back complete to Arqueno…

The basin glowed, and Arqueno knew that his path toward understanding was about to start again—for the final time. In knowing Vanimë's life, he would dissolve the eons-old hatred between Teleri and Noldor. Nolwi would appreciate her daughter's decision in time, when she awoke…but Arqueno was in no hurry to finish either tale, "I am a Telerin elf of Valinor; I am patient…"

And with that, he took a deep breath, felt himself enter Irmo's trancelike dream state of restoration, and allowed Vanimë's voice and life to engulf him fully:

_"Men often say that they sleep like the dead, a saying that puzzled me to no end until I slept this way because I had died briefly…And as they say, it is very peaceful…"_


	16. Undying Love

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers:** Another drumroll please for this chapter! Sincerest apologies for the usual delay. At any rate, the usual: anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Italicized text is Amorith/Vanimë. Page breaks separate Thranduil's thoughts. Elvish words from _The Council of Elrond_ website. I made up the custom about the color that Noldo wear when grieving someone who has passed. The song is my translated and slightly altered version of "Bahebek Wallah" by Ayman Zbib; the actual song can be heard here, and I encourage you to do so even though you will not understand it. Just listen to it for the music and the feel. In fact, play it while reading this chapter—it was my background music when writing! This is exactly how I imagine Thranduil's voice to be when singing: www-youtube-com/watch?v=WFC2MYttZF8 (replace – with dots). Numerous thanks to my beta Crackers for all her hard work and patience with me! As always, please read and REVIEW!

**Undying Love**

_The smell of the earth was what I noticed first. Pungent, aromatic…Visions of a rainfall in Doriath swam through my mind. This was a particular memory: Thranduil and I having a private tryst during a spring shower…_

_The smell was becoming stronger, more concentrated. I felt something raining down upon me, and as I exhaled the raindrops from my memory, my nose became clogged with what felt like dirt. I tried to cough, but ended up with a mouthful of soil. I thought I could hear the soft mumblings of voices coming down to me, as if I were in a tunnel…_

I am being buried alive!

_This thought resonated loudly within my mind. I tried to muster a scream, but my mouth was still full of dirt. I forced a cough, and this time I was successful in clearing my airway. Another light shower of soil from above sent me into another coughing fit. Again I screamed and tried to claw my way out of my grave. My entire body with the exception of my head was buried, and I knew it was only a matter of time before my face would also be covered with dirt. _

_But I did not die in body and have an audience with the Valar only to end up buried alive! I had been granted Life once more; the ancient Fëanorian blood in my veins coursed ever stronger. I felt the fervent, rapid beat of my heart within my chest. So I continued to scream, willing my voice to be heard within the minds of those I knew: _

"_Míriel…Vanië….Innas...Aranel…Galadriel…Thranduil…"_

_There was a pause in the chatter above. _

"_Help!" I screamed with all my force. "I am here! Please, help me!"_

_My mind was clouded then by another vision from Doriath. I had been running early one morning in a light mist when I slipped and fell down a riverbank, twisting my right ankle and hitting my head on a rock. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Thranduil had been following. Seeing my fall, he rushed to where I lay in pain, bleeding, and picked me up in his strong arms…._

_Sapphire eyes fringed by golden hair swam before my eyes—Thranduil. Just as in the second memory, I felt his strong arms reach down and draw me out of the soil as easily as when he picked me up off Doriath's forest floor. The familiarity of his embrace put me at ease, so I leaned back into reminiscence._

"_Oh, my sweet, sweet Vanimë…you have come back to me," _

_Those words broke the spell I had fallen under. He did not utter those words to me in Doriath, nor was he wearing a redberry crown then…_

_Two female faces floated above me: Vanië and Míriel. Aranel and Innas joined them. All four stared down at me, as if seeing a ghost. _

"_It cannot be…" I heard them whisper under their breaths._

_Thranduil meanwhile had managed to clamber to the top of the grave, one arm hoisting himself up, the other holding onto me tightly. Once he was out and his feet were on solid ground, he sprinted through the trees. His feet barely made a sound as he raced across the forest, heading towards his palace. The gates swung wide open to admit us as he shot through them like an arrow. Flashes of corridors and then suddenly I felt the softness of a bed beneath me. He had taken me to his chambers._

_It was as if Thranduil had never banished me from Mirkwood. Nothing had changed since the last time I had been here. The same intricately carved oak desk stood in its usual corner, its surface a mess of parchment that only made sense to him. On either side of it stood his bookcases, filled with volumes saved from Doriath's destruction. His large bed, in which I had spent many blissful nights, was in the opposite corner. The jeweled coverlet with his family crest covered me now. His wardrobe was to the left of the bed, directly across from the bathing room. _

_My mind was reeling, still unable to grasp what was happening, what reality—or alternative—I was in. I could not distinguish if this was actually occurring or if my mind was playing tricks on me once more. There was the sound of a thousand voices in my head, as if people were trying to speak to me. The weight of everything was crushing, and I let out a moan as I tried to shut the voices out of my mind._

"_Make it stop…" I whimpered, "The voices are too much to bear…"_

_Thranduil was at my side in a flash, calming me with hushed tones and gently caressing my face. He brushed the hair from my eyes and looked down intently, locking his gaze onto mine. I felt hypnotized, pulled into his eyes._

"_I heard you calling out to me as I threw the dirt onto you, grain by grain. At first I thought it was a delusion, but then I heard the others speak of the same thing. You almost left me for a place I am not ready to enter yet…not while Legolas lives…"_

_I could not help the tears that began to flow. It was like a fountain of hot water had burst. The tears poured down the sides of my face and seeped into the sheets beneath me. I did not make a sound, just wept silently. He had never stopped loving me, never, try as he may to convince himself otherwise!_

_Thranduil then began to kiss me, scooping me back into his arms with manic ferocity. Over and over he showered me with kisses on my forehead, eyes, and cheeks. His warm tears fell onto my face, mingling with mine. His emotions were almost palpable. I took advantage of his guard being down, letting myself into his thoughts, to know what had happened since I had been in the healing room._

* * *

><p>After three days and nights of lying in the healing chamber with the Noldo princess' body, Aranel convinced Thranduil that his vigil was futile. The endless number of blood donors was having no effect at all. Try as he may to elicit a response out of Vanimë, there was nothing. She lay limp, gray, and unmoving in Thranduil's arms. No matter how many times her name was called or body shaken, there was no reply. Aranel feared what would become of his King if he continued lying with Vanimë's body. He was already disheveled, his countenance wild and frenzied.<p>

Isteth, the High Healer, came into the chambers on the fourth day and pulled back the divider, letting the sunlight stream in. The warm rays fell on Thranduil's face, slowly illuminating his features. Isteth felt for Vanimë's pulse for several minutes, watched for breathing, more out of courtesy for the King than anything else. Aranel stood behind her, silent. Isteth turned to him, saying nothing, shaking her head.

Isteth placed a hand gently on his arm, calling out to him softly, "My liege, wake up…it is morning…" she said. "It is time."

Thranduil's mind was far from the situation at hand. For three days and nights he lay in bed with Vanimë, stroking her hair, whispering her name repeatedly in an attempt to bring her back, reminiscing on their days together in Doriath. He requested as many of his people to donate blood as possible. Desperate, he even begged the great Noldo warrior Glorfindel on the third day, who pitied the Sinda and granted his request.

"Legends exist of your greatness; please…for all that you hold dear, help me…" he had said to the noble hero. "She is all I have left of my heart; she _is_ my heart. I loved her from first sight in Doriath, and all the long years after the war of the First Age I feared she was dead. Then she came to me—and I drove her away in blindness!"

Glorfindel was moved, felt that the ancient feud had been broken by the daughter of the instigators—at the steep price of her life.

As the golden-haired Noldo sat next to Vanimë, watching his blood seep out of his veins and into his kinswoman's lifeless body, he whispered to her in Quenya:

"Vanimë, if only you were alive to see what you have done! You saved Thranduil from himself and gave him back his kingdom and his people. Legolas will return home to a redeemed father. Yet most importantly, Thranduil sees the error of his ways. He confesses that what he did to you was atrocious. Even now as you lay here he is anxiously trying to bring you back…but I fear that it is too late. _Ai,_ Valar, why must the innocent always suffer and bear the price of sins they did not commit?"

Glorfindel's tears fell onto Vanimë, making it appear as if she were weeping. For one instant, he thought he saw her eyes flash open, but in the next moment there was nothing. Her chest, which had slight movements of shallow breathing, went flat, and a sigh issued from her, as if her very soul had escaped. Both Glorfindel and Thranduil froze. Then the King called out to Isteth, who reconfirmed her lifelessness.

That was the third day. It was now four days since Vanimë had been brought into the healing chamber. This memory returned to Isteth as she again tried to waken her King. Once more she called out to him, with Aranel at her side.

When Isteth spoke, Thranduil only perceived the words, not the voice. Again, he heard the words: "My liege, wake up…it is morning…"

Thranduil smiled, allowing himself to be relished by a barrage of kisses. He could feel Vanimë's warm breath glaze him with each kiss, until finally he caught her by surprise, biting down on her lower lip, causing her to cry out.

"It is a good morning….if we stay here and do not rise out of bed…" he whispered.

Thranduil allowed his eyes to open only slightly, delighting in the scene before him. Vanimë lay completely nude, alabaster skin glowing in the morning light. She was feathering his body with her soft lips as she sat astride his hips. Brunette hair fell like a river of curls down her back. She hated her hair, always complaining about its thickness, how it was not silky, and its unruliness. Thranduil loved it; thought it reflected her moods. He wound a few strands around his fingers causally.

Vanimë stopped, head poised above his nether region like a snake, ready to strike at any given moment. Thranduil waited with bated breath, praying she would move.

"A good morning if we do not rise out of bed?" she repeated, running her hand down from his chest and onto his manhood, causing him to inhale sharply.

Thranduil uttered an unintelligible sound. Vanimë hid her smile.

"What was that, my lord?" she asked, fighting back laughter as she moved her hand.

"…stay…bed…" he gasped, unable to contain himself any longer.

There was a knock on the door. Vanimë froze momentarily. Thranduil sat upright, hurriedly covering her with the bed sheets.

"Who is there?" he called out.

"It is I, Naegion," a man responded. "May I come in?"

"I am not dressed," Thranduil answered.

"Is that vixen with you, the dark haired temptress who pinned me to a tree?"

"Why would she be?"

"Oh come now, I see how you lust after her with your eyes, how you follow her everywhere she goes. I do not understand why you desire her. There are rumors about her, that if are true, might find you in a tight spot with _Aran_ Elu Thingol."

"Naegion, this is why you are indeed a pain, as your name means. You only heed rumors, words spread by mindless gossips. When will you learn to use judgment?"

Naegion snorted, "Very well, stay in there with your _judgment_. I hope you enjoy her."

Thranduil uncovered Vanimë, who remained where she was, staring up at him with an unreadable expression on her face. It made him slightly uneasy.

"Why do you stare at me thus?" he finally asked.

"How long have you been my shadow?" she whispered.

"Since that fateful evening when I gave you my cloak. You stood alone on the lawn, yet you commanded the attention of everyone. Your presence has such bearing. I felt your soul calling out from its loneliness, sadness, and despair. I could not, and still cannot, understand what hardships you have endured, someone so majestic and ethereal as you. What wounds have you suffered, Amorith?"

But she was spared the need to respond. Another knock on the door announced King Oropher, Thranduil's father, leaving for a hunting trip. Thranduil's face broke into a mischievous grin.

"How about a little hunting trip of our own?" he said, voice heavy with desire.

"Would you risk remaining in here with me all day?" Vanimë said. "After all, there are rumors about me. Would you want to associate with tainted characters?"

This ancient memory faded away. Thranduil found himself awakened by Aranel, who had been shaking him roughly. The rays of sun shone directly into his eyes, blinding him. Isteth stood on the other side of Vanimë, drawing the sheet over her face. Thranduil reached out to stop her, but found his arm held back by Aranel.

"My liege, there is nothing that can bring her back save for the One Himself. Her time on these shores is over. You have tried valiantly to save her, but you can do no more. I fear that our Mistress the Lady Vanimë is dead, her _fëa_ has passed on," the counselor said, voice heavy with sadness.

There was a short cry. The two men turned to see Innas struggling with Míriel. The maiden was overcome with emotion. She was crying relentlessly, pushing against Innas, hysterical. Still weak from her assault in the forest and the loss of her unborn child, Míriel sank to the floor, Innas still supporting her.

"You killed her! You robbed yourself and all of us of the one blessing that made us endure living with you! Your pride and arrogance are more important to you than anything else in this world! Are you satisfied now that you have finally achieved vengeance for the destruction of Doriath? Small wonder Legolas ran off to the War! He is the lucky one!" she screamed, tears cascading down her face.

Isteth rushed to the grief-stricken maiden, soothing her with soft words. "Calm yourself, my dear. You have yet to regain your strength after your attack. Your body and _fëa _need to recover. Calm yourself."

This only fueled Míriel's anger. "What happened to me in the woods was another result of his blindness! You had to prove yourself, Thranduil, did you not, despite the warning in your heart? Do not pretend for a moment that you have not felt our home being defiled by the Dark Lord, by your own doing. How will you be at peace now that all of your people know the truth—that you sacrificed Vanimë because you were too weak? I hate you! May the Valar curse you, Thranduil! May you never know happiness again!"

Innas tried to quiet Míriel but found himself empathizing. At least she could voice some of the frustrations and feelings he had buried for centuries. Instead he clutched her tighter to his chest, hiding his grief in her hair. He was afraid that if he tried to calm her verbally, he would be joining her in adding insult to the King. At last he was able to calm Míriel, and he left with the grief-stricken maiden in his arms, following Isteth wordlessly.

_Innas and Míriel personally divulged this information to me later._

There was movement, and out of the corner of his eye, Thranduil saw Vanië being comforted in the arms of Glorfindel. Both of the Noldor's gray eyes were brimming with tears. Vanië approached Thranduil, arms wrapped around her own body.

"If you wish to yell at me, please, do not let me stop you," Thranduil said, cradling Vanimë's body tightly in his arms.

Vanië's countenance softened. She dropped down to her knees beside the Sinda, reaching shaking arms towards her sister's cold body.

"Thranduil, I am not here to add to your grief. I will not deny that I too am angry with you for being the greatest source of pain for Vanimë. She loved you immensely. I tried warning her away from you, but she did not listen. Her heart desired only you. When she was sundered from you after the First Age, the thought of reuniting with you is what sustained her. And when you exiled her—that nearly destroyed her. You were her world, her entire being.

"Do you know why she returned? She was sent to save you from yourself, to restore you to your kingdom. Imladris and Lothlórien were concerned that your people would suffer the consequences of your inner darkness. Vanimë adamantly refused to help you; she had grown bitter against you. Yet in the end her love for you won.

"This is her home; this is where she was welcomed into the hearts and minds of an entire people. She wanted to redeem herself in your eyes, to prove to you that all the falsehoods you believed about her were wrong. Vanimë cared more about making you whole than returning to you—she had given up hope of being reconciled with you. She realized in the end that she was just as responsible for her sundering as you were. She remained loyal to you to the very end.

"Dying for you was her greatest pleasure, her last gift to you. When she spoke to your people, rallying them behind you, I felt her liberation. She was finally able to admit who she was—not only to your people, but to herself. That was the important piece. Do you know what it is to suppress your own self? Can you imagine enduring that state for centuries on end? She did—and to the extent that she could no longer remember her true nature. She had almost forgotten her real name!

"My sister, Vanimë, has always been a fighter. Even as an elfling in Valinor she always rebelled, that was her nature, a true Noldo. I know that is part of the reason you loved her. So no, Thranduil, I will not insult you further. I will grieve the loss of the one you loved most, my sister, Vanimë Morfinwiel. I am very sorry for your loss. May her soul finally gain the peace she needs in Mandos' Halls," Vanië concluded, rising to her feet.

The Noldo's words deeply penetrated Thranduil. In his sadness he had forgotten that others would be grieving as well. He reached out with one hand and grabbed Vanië by the arm.

"It is I who am deeply sorry for your loss, Lady Vanië. I am sure you were very close," he said.

Vanië smiled. "Actually we were not…and for that I am most regretful. Do not look so ashamed, you did not know," she said, having read his thoughts. "Never let anger get between you and those you love."

* * *

><p><em>I<em>_ never imagined I would see my own funeral. In fact, I never thought that I would die! Though we Eldar do not perish from the world as mortals do, for our f__ë__ar live on even though our bodies do not, to know and be cognizant of the fact that I did indeed die was still astonishing to me. Even more so was the fact that I was witnessing my death and funeral through the eyes of the very man who was the cause of my demise. I will not lie, though, I would willingly die repeatedly for him, content in the knowledge that in the end he did realize my worth and value to him...His love for me did not die._

_It was strange to see how carefully my sister and Isteth prepared my body for the funeral. They tenderly washed my body, combed my hair, and then dressed me. Vanië was humming an old Quenya song under her breath, one of my favorites. Her eyes brimmed with tears as she worked, hands trembling slightly. _

_At one point Míriel appeared. In her hands she held a woven crown of woodland flowers, which she braided into my curls. I had done the same for her centuries ago when she was an elfling. As she gazed upon my gray face, I saw the lost girl that I had taken under my wing, a girl who had poured her entire soul into me-and then I had abandoned her._

_"Vanimë, mother, I forgive you. I know I was angry with you for deserting me, and I blamed part of my calamities on you, but I realize now that I am the only one accountable. I will miss you terribly," she whispered into my ear._

_When they were done, they stood back to admire their work. I had never looked so elegant before, so peaceful._

_"She looks the bride of our Woodland King," Isteth said, her voice faltering. "She has taken her place as his rightful Queen in her death. What a tragic end to a beautiful and noble lady. She died for the one she loved."_

_At that moment the doors of the chamber opened, revealing Thranduil himself. He was dressed entirely in black. Behind him stood Aranel, Innas, and Glorfindel. Father and son were also clothed in black, while the Noldo wore robes of silver. This was the color we Noldor wore when a soul left a body. _

_Isteth bowed her head as her lord approached. He stopped directly in front of her, hesitant to gaze upon me. _

_"Is she ready?" he asked, trying to steel himself._

_Isteth nodded, "Indeed, aran, she is."_

_Thranduil tried averting his eyes, but could not. He knelt next to my body, cradling my face in his arms._

_"My Queen, gerich veleth nín. May the Valar look after you well, as I did not," he said._

_The next memories Thranduil had were a blur to me. All I could glean was my body being carried outside to the hallowed trees. I was laid on a stone dais. The people of Eryn Galen were gathered in the clearing, their faces long and somber. I could hear some people weeping. Thranduil held up his hands, and silence fell upon the audience._

"_The last time Vanimë was here, she was begging me to forgive her for keeping her true identity from me a secret, to allow her to remain by my side as your Queen. Blinded by my hate, which was founded on pride and prejudice, I let the love of my life go. The one woman who truly ruled my heart, challenged me in every way, and loved me unconditionally lies here dead because I betrayed her. So often a person's true worth is not appreciated until it is far too late. Vanimë has and always will be the only lady my heart has ever desired. She is my Queen forevermore. My love for her is undying," the Elvenking said. "Say not farewell to her, but welcome her home."_

_One by one the Silvan Elves paid their respects to me until only Thranduil, Míriel, Vanië, Glorfindel, Aranel, and Innas were left._

"_It is time, my liege," Aranel stated. __Thranduil nodded.  
><em>

_Glorfindel, Innas, Aranel, and Vanië picked up musical instruments that were hidden in the bushes nearby and began to play them. The melody was soft and sensual, yet bittersweet. Míriel imagined me dancing before her on the grass in the moonlight as I so often did. Thranduil moved next to my body, kneeling on the ground and holding my hand in his. He closed his eyes as he spoke:_

"_This was the song Vanimë sang to me when she first came to Eryn Galen, and again when she left…_

You will always have my undying love

I have desired you from centuries past

I only ask that your heart does not betray me

I have returned to you at last

I have never wanted more than you

Your soul is my treasure

Oh, my sweet, soothe me

Tell me you miss me

Keep me close

Love me tenderly

I have never wanted more than you

Your soul is my treasure

You may try to erase my memory

But I am all that you dream of

And I will always be a part of you

I will always be your undying love


	17. Future Past

**Author's Notes/Disclaimers:** Anything recognizable belongs to Tolkien, the rest is my creation. Italicized text is Vanimë. Elvish words from _The Council of Elrond_ website. This chapter is rated M for scenes of physical relations. As with the previous chapter, this one was inspired by a song. It has been in my mind for 6 years, and now here it is! It is my translated and altered version of "Ettala' Fia" by Carole Samaha. I encourage you to listen to it even though you will not understand it. Just listen for the music and the feel. In fact, play it while reading this chapter—it was my background music when writing! www-youtube-com/watch?v=8Toa0BOyWyA (replace – with dots). I have changed my penname to Noldesse, FYI. Numerous thanks to my beta Crackers for all her hard work and patience with me! As always, READ & REVIEW!

**Future Past**

_I opened my eyes to find Thranduil still staring fiercely down at me, his tears falling like light rain down upon my mouth, a kiss from my angel's eyes. It was as if his memory of me had been tainted, as if he were desperately trying to recall small yet significant details that he had forgotten. His eyes roved over my entire body as his hands conducted a thorough search. I was too weak to resist and still in shock, so I submitted to this examination, somewhat curious as to what it was he sought._

"_You are more hardened, distant, than I remember. It is as if you are a ghost, a shell of yourself, my precious __Vanimë__. Such hurt in your eyes. Your hair has lightened in color, and your skin has a subtle golden glow—both the doing of the Golden Wood's sun—yet it still remains as soft and supple as it ever was. You are more ethereal to me now than before, when you were more Noldorin," he whispered, before adding, "The Valar gave me a second chance at redeeming myself with you. For this I am thankful."_

_I remained silent at first, until he spoke my name, my true name, aloud. He had uttered it so privately, so sensually, that I had almost missed it. And he had spoken it in its original Quenya. My name had never seemed more alluring to me than in that moment. The last time he had spoken my name, it had been hurled at me in insult. It is strange how emotion can turn a word into something wonderful or something ill._

"_Look at me," he said, as I turned my head away, unable to bear the emotional onslaught. "Look at me. Man cenich (What do you see)?" he growled, and I found my resolve weakening. "Tell me what you see!"_

_He forced me to turn my head back and look up into his glacial stare. Dark sapphire eyes were now a paler color, intent on mesmerizing me, his helpless prey._

"_There was a time when I wished for you to gaze upon me so, to hold me in place while I disobeyed you…" I said, running my hands down his chest, causing him to catch his breath a few times before I ceased my movement in a critical location. "There was a time when I could best you…but not now._

"_You ask me what I see when I look upon you. I see the proud Sindarin prince clouded by anguish, grief, and arrogance, grown into a formidable king. You say I have hardened, but what of yourself? You shut yourself away in your palace like Dwarves of old have done, hiding deep within their mountains. There are matters in your heart that you are unwilling to bring to light. You conceal the warmth and love that you carry behind a wall of indifference. I worry your barrier will not break."_

_He said nothing, waiting to see what my hands would do next, but I withdrew them to my side. Even that simple motion tired me. But I was not done yet._

"_What right do you have to call me back to Life?" I screamed suddenly, my rage no longer wanting to be contained. "What right have you, lesser Sinda? You who have only walked on these shores, who cowers in his cavern-palace, who drives away all who love and care for you? You killed me, Thranduil, you shattered my heart—"_

_As I spoke, my hands formed fists and began beating on his chest. But my strength was not yet wholly regained, and all I did was meagerly push against him; however I could not stop. Centuries of rage and hatred against the man I love came pouring out of me, and as I futilely struck at his chest, I cursed him in my native tongue. _

_I sensed my body glowing with the Light of Aman, as is the wont of all Eldar, my F__ë__anorian House especially, in moments of great passion, whether of joy or pain. I realized then that the Valar had indeed restored me to my true self as they said. There was to be no more hiding from my own __fëa__ now. __Vanimë had at last won the eons-long struggle between her and Amorith. I could not lie to myself forever. With Time, my fëa had diminished, as happens with all Elves, and along with it my power of concealment._

_Thranduil knew that he had erred on my account by refusing to believe that I was innocent of my family's Curse, and that his denial to admit this was borne out of pure pride. Unaware that I had read his thoughts, and that I knew he had confessed this to his people only hours before, he feigned arrogance once more. It was a ruse, albeit shallow, and it was visible. His features betrayed anguish and guilt, not conceit. I wanted him to declare his mistake to me himself; I wanted to hear it with my own ears while I was awake, not by leeching it through his mind. _

_Yet he remained obstinate, unwilling to concede to me that he had gravely condemned me. In his mind, by stating that the Valar had given him a second chance with me, he had acknowledged his vice to me without the real need to articulate it. At times, he could be more stubborn than Dwarves, and this was such a time._

"_Enough!" he commanded, his tone one of power and dominance, and I obeyed him. _

_It was something I could not resist—his lordliness and authority always left me breathless, and for a short while I forgot my anger and all the hurt I had suffered at his hands. This was a reason I loved him, his might reminded me of more ancient days, my kin, and it was a trait that I desperately sought in a man. For all my own power, I needed my mate to be even greater than I. _

_Seeing him now, exerting his control over me, reminded me how much of an aphrodisiac this was to me. He grasped my hands in his, his strength nearly crushing me in my debilitated state, expecting me to resist in some way. I mustered all my willpower and pulled him down on top of me. He did not anticipate this, so he fell rather forcefully on top of me with a cry, knocking the wind out of my body. I could feel him recover quickly, though, as his excitement at the touch of our bodies grew. Once more he waited for me to block him, but I did not. So we lay there for hours, bodies pressed together, his desire becoming more evident with each passing minute, my longing on the edge of rage. _

"_No one has ever called me 'lesser Sinda'; no one would dare," he whispered, trailing his mouth slowly, with calculated measure, over the tip of my ear._

_He knew, even after all these long years of separation, how to excite me. As stubborn as he could be, I could match him. Though my body burned with intense desire, and I wanted so earnestly to give in to his touches, I held back. He still had not admitted to me, in words, that he had erred. And so I would not relent, but I would tease._

"_I dare. You do not frighten me, Thranduil. All your power and might pales to the glory of my F__ë__anorian House. You are nothing compared to them, to me; a mere elfling has more worth and standing than you do now," I replied, moving in such a manner that he felt himself about ready to be spent. "You will always be lesser, Sinda."_

"_If your claim is correct, and you despise me so, a lesser Sinda, then why indeed did you return?" he asked, and I smiled in spite of myself, for he was indeed cunning._

"_I was sent back because of love," I responded. _

_This was not a lie. The Valar had sent me back for love, but not his. Thranduil had sworn me away, even though he was denying himself the one treasure he valued most in this world. He would not go back on his word—despite knowing that his people would rejoice to finally have me as their Queen—to spare himself admitting fault. Even now, as we lay on his bed, our bodies intertwined, his yearning for me on obvious display, he would not consent for me to remain by his side. There was one thing that surpassed his love for me, and that was his kingdom. _

_His features softened at my last statement. I closed my eyes as his hands moved to undo the clasps on my dress. It was cruel, what I was about to do, but my anger still burned, and I could be just as shrewd as he. He removed his outer robe, the inner one, the underlying shirt, and leggings. He kicked off his boots without delay, removing his redberry crown at the very end, before returning to me. _

_I waited until the final clasp remained on my dress, and in the instant it took him to undo it, I finished my sentence, "But not yours."_

_Three seemingly simple words. Three words that I have dreaded from the moment I realized in Mandos' Halls that it was Haldir, not Thranduil, whom I was to marry. They changed the atmosphere instantly. I felt the Elvenking recoil, and on his face was a devastated look I had not seen in some time. My resolve wavered, but I held steadfast._

"_Man pennich (What did you say)?" he said, his words barely audible, more of a hiss._

"_Do you think you are the only one to have wanted me? The world is a wide place, Thranduil. In your absence, many have noticed me. Even before you, there were many others, as well, in Valinor and Middle-earth," I said. _

_There I lay, my dress undone from the top, my breasts swelling with each labored breath I took. He towered above me, his own chest bare, heaving from a madness made of passion, power, and now rage. Were it not for my determination to hear him confess to me how wrong he was, I would have willingly let him take me then, even in my weakened state. My soul cried out for it—but I quelled my body._

"_But why do you care?" I continued, trying to hide my tears, which had started up again. "You banished me from here without any hesitation. I am free to love, and to be loved, by anyone of my choosing. You do not hold power over me, Thranduil!"_

_Thranduil could not contain himself any longer, knowing then that I had trapped him to bare his vulnerabilities. But he was not weakened like me, so he let out a feral growl, and took me as I was. His need overrode all else, and he became driven, blinded by his desire, anger, guilt, and pain. I was defenseless to his onslaught. _

_The first victim of his war on my body was what remained of my dress. He tore it off with a ferocity that actually frightened me. I began to whimper out of thinly-veiled pleasure, a feeble attempt to stop him, and out of pain. Not pain from all the hurt he had caused me, but actual physical pain from what he was doing to me now, because I still had not recovered my full strength. _

_He held one hand over my mouth, stifling me, and the other he placed on my back, supporting me as he swiftly forced me upwards so that our bodies could join. With a jolt I realized that this carnal drive came from his recent battle; I recognized it from the way he became so primal. Whenever he went into combat and returned, his body needed closure from all the surging energy. And he was a sight to behold then! Nothing could stop him from achieving his goal, his last victory._

_This time, it was not only the recent battle in the trees that he sought release from, but also his own suppressed longing for me through all the time I had been banished from him. I sensed something else as well, frustration. So he took me vehemently, heatedly, as a person who has been starved takes a feast. _

_His usual gentleness and tenderness were replaced with roughness. He did not ask, as he usually did, if what he was doing pleased me. For him, love-making is about the man pleasuring his lady. His sole focus this time, however, was on releasing his pent-up emotions. So he thrust into me repeatedly, for hours, until I could no longer bear the intensity. His body was drenched in sweat, voice guttural, whispering in my ear. _

"_Do not ever leave me…" he said, biting my ear. "You promised me forever. You promised that you would never leave my side. Where did you go, Ada?" _

_Initially I thought that he was speaking of me, but at the mention of his father, I knew better. His fury had driven him beyond the present and into the past. The recent battle forced very painful events to the forefront of his mind—Oropher's death was something that Thranduil blamed on himself and could never forget._

_He pushed me back then, and I fell onto the pillows limply, utterly spent beyond any measure or recall. I felt something oozing from me, so I tilted my head and saw a fresh trail of blood seeping out of me. He had injured me deep inside. My mouth was now free of his restraining hand, so I emitted a cry._

"_I am bleeding…" I said, panicking, frightened by his force._

"_So much blood," he said, and when I looked into his eyes, they were glazed. _

_He was locked inside his head, voicing all his frustrations. The look on his face was that of a lost elfling, a look Legolas had inherited. Despite all my anger and pain at what he had done to me, I could not leave him now. There was no one else who could alleviate his stress. It was then that I saw how much he had suffered in my absence, how much he had buried inside of him because there was no release._

"_Oh Thranduil, my poor soul, come to me. Come to me and tell me all that you have stored in your heart. You are mighty, Oropherion, but even the strongest tree will wither from disease," I whispered, unable to withstand his self-torture, though a small part of me wondered if this was a trick to feed upon my sympathy. _

_He was like a child in his emotionally charged state, eyes still unfocused, breathing somewhat erratically from all his activity with me. I was still very sore, but the bleeding had lessened. I managed to move over enough so that he could lay next to me. I drew the soft, red, embroidered silken sheets over our naked bodies, pulling him closer to me. Thranduil rested his golden head on my bosom, his panting slowing down to a normal rate. It was some time before he spoke again._

"_I hate battle," he said. "It is always a gamble. You never know if you will come back or not. All it takes is a small misstep, and life is taken. Even the mightiest warrior can be struck down…one blow and it is all over. That is how it was with Ada, and how it will be with Legolas. My family will die, but I will remain, alone…"_

"_Thranduil, this is your fear speaking now; do not submit to it," I said after a length of time, trying to calm his nerves. "The only loneliness you feel is that which you have imposed on yourself. You have distanced all those who truly care for you."_

_His last statement I almost did not respond to, but I did not dismiss it, for it was a confession of what he feared most: to be alone. We Elves are immortal, and not having someone through the long Ages can be unbearable. I sensed that Thranduil had begun to fear this when his father had died, and that it became more of a reality to him when he banished me from his kingdom. Legolas' leaving for Imladris and then joining the Fellowship intensified this dread in Thranduil. I gleaned from his mind that had the Valar not sent me back, he would have felt more at peace. He remained torn between his senseless pride and his love for me._

"_So many dead faces! So much blood, elven blood, spilled," Thranduil continued._

"_Whom do you see dead?" I asked._

"_Everyone…Doriath…Ada…his men….__Míriel__…my men…the Men of Lake-town and the Beornings…Lord Elrond's people…and you…"_

_He continued muttering under his breath of events both long gone and recent. He lamented the burning of his forest homes, Doriath and Eryn Galen, his tears running anew. When I heard him mention the F__ë__anorians, my pulse quickened. I had to stop him before he became trapped within his mind and worries; he was unraveling._

"_Thranduil! Oh, my sweet, you have nothing to worry for. You cannot change the past, but neither can you live in it. I fear that you will bury yourself if you persist in chasing ghosts. Think of the victories you have accomplished! You vanquished Dol Guldur's forces. You saved your kingdom," I told him, cradling his face in my hands, hesitating momentarily before adding, "Míriel and I are both alive. Your father would be so proud of you, of what you accomplished."_

_Thranduil's eyes became clear as I continued to stroke his face, planting kisses on his forehead and mouth. He was so misunderstood, this fierce specimen of a man that I both loved and hated. Behind his mask of feigned indifference, he truly did care for those he claimed to value. Oftentimes it is those who appear strongest that are in fact the most fragile. So he lay there in my arms, his guard down, blessing me with another chance to comfort him and obtain a deeper knowledge of his heart._

_My touches awakened his passion once more, so he took me again, but this time I welcomed it. I ignored my pain; this time I wanted him to please me._

_When he kissed me, I responded with equal intensity, surprising him by biting his ears and neck just as he liked. He paused for a moment, puzzled, it seemed, by my reaction this time. I ran my hands over his strong chest, feeling the muscles beneath and the scars from battle—he had amassed more in my absence. In turn, he trailed hot kisses from the hollow beneath my neck to my belly. My breasts received small bites. When he reached my belly I knew what was to come, so I readied myself for him, with my hands wrapped around his neck and my thighs straddling his legs. Before he entered me, he stopped, giving me a look that I could not fathom._

"_I did not save my kingdom, you did. For once in the history of Arda, a Sinda was saved by a Noldo…The perpetrators' descendant saved me, a victim of their evil," he said, his voice quiet and disconcertingly even, and I could not help the fear and chill that crept into my heart and spread icy-hot throughout my body. _

_This was the final and perhaps most important element that had been bothering him. I had not considered the full impact this would have on him. His kingdom was everything to him, and I rallied his people behind him. I could read his thoughts clearly now, and he was seeing the irony in our situation. It had been him, in the First Age, who stood beside Elu Thingol in banning my people and our language from Doriath. But it was I, Vanimë Morifinwiel, the daughter of one who brought devastation on Doriath, who stood up to Thranduil's people and united them to support him. Our worlds, both ancient and present, were about to close, forming a perfect circle. If the Valar planned this in jest, to Thranduil it seemed a mockery he could not forgive._

"_You could have turned them against me, toward yourself, and reclaimed the last Sindarin-led kingdom, but you did not…"_

_I opened my mouth to respond, and in that moment he drove the last of his frustration into me. I emitted a strong cry as the world turned to blackness before me. My nails dug deeply into his back, leaving scratches. I felt him thrust into me repeatedly until he too cried out, unable to withstand any longer. We fell as one back onto the pillows, our bodies coiled together, heat emanating in waves, sweat beading off of us. I could feel myself bleeding again, and the soreness had returned._

"_I could never betray you, Thranduil, never. I tried to change myself entirely to please you. I wanted to be your Sindarin lady, but I cannot. I am a Noldo, born in Valinor and raised with the passion of my people. My life has been endless pain. I never thought I would find love, least of all in you. But the heart does as it wants, and mine will always want you. I hoped you would forgive me, not still hate me," I said._

"_You speak of all your losses, but have you once considered mine? I lost my entire family, my heritage, even myself. I lost my home and the privileges of being of the most noble Noldorin Houses. You will never know what it is like to have been so high, that when you fall and stand again, glancing upwards becomes all you ever do. I have scarcely held on to what little remains of my pride. You lost your father and your birthplace, but you gained a kingdom and a son. But what we both lost and cannot replace is even more precious—our love."_

_With that I turned away from him and burst into tears as I realized that he would not relinquish his pride for me. He would never admit to me how wrong he was on my account. My saving his kingdom for him only proved how mighty I was and how little he is, in his mind. I unknowingly sealed my own fate. _

_But my tears were too much for him to take. He turned me back to him, brushing my face, hushing me, saying, "I do not hate you: I hate myself. You are stronger than I. But let us not speak of these matters anymore, for we are both weary. You withstood me longer than I expected," he said, giving me a satisfied smirk, to which I blushed. "Let us rest now and be as we once were, two lovers content in each other's arms."_

_As we lay together, I could not help the song that escaped from my lips, my last plea when I was banished:_

Look at me

Your eyes are harsh

Your touches cruel

Yet you do not see

Hatred you now feign

Becoming a stranger

You are lost from me

I search for you in vain

What changed in you?

Where has your heart gone?

Where is our great love?

Will you not return it anew?

I colored your eyes

Traced your lips from memory

And you tell me this is not love?

Your distance is but a guise

You are my unquenched thirst

My love for you is unconditional

It is as strong as the world

For you are my last and my first

You try to lie to your soul

But you can never lie to me

Your soul will never cease

It will always heed my call

Do not look for me

You are but a shadow

An echo of yourself

Yet you do not see

* * *

><p><strong>Another Author's Notes: <strong>I just wanted to take a few moments and tell you about an idea I have had floating around in my head for the past few weeks. I caught myself looking up pictures of characters and places associated with **A Time of Healing**. This gave me the idea of developing a website dedicated to the world I have created. Such things as character bios, their pictures, song inspirations, etc would be posted. Users can submit questions to characters and have them answered in their voice. This series has a very special place in my heart and I would love to share this with the world. I have created a poll, accessible on my profile page, asking how interested you would be. I would appreciate your honesty; it will only take a few seconds. You can also send me a message. Remember to REVIEW NOW...just press that magic button below :-)


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